


can you show me

by Anonymous



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily (DCU), Domestic Batfamily (DCU), Found Family, Gen, Protective Batfamily (DCU)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 23,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25625287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A collection of short stories of various lengths centred around the Batfamily.
Relationships: Batfamily - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 195
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you have something that you'd like to ask or request, feel free to ask me to do so in the comments!

"Okay, here's the deal."

"Get on with it."

“If I make you waffles, will you help me with my essay?”

Stephanie tilted her head to the side at that, as if considering. In a hoodie she’d almost certainly stolen from Dick’s closet and a pair of sweatpants, she looked completely exhausted. Which, Duke had to admit, was fair, and also, she wasn’t the only one. He was also exhausted. He’d gone through his first pair of all-nighters in a row earlier, and only just gotten a few hours of sleep. What nobody had bothered to mention to him--or maybe he just hadn’t realized--was that after staying up for 48h+ with no sleep, six hours didn’t really cut it. And tomorrow was Monday, which meant he had an essay due.

He had most of it done. (By that he meant he’d BS’d his way through the first four pages of text and made it look longer after that by adding in unnecessary clarifications, longer words, and so on and so on.) But Duke sucked at editing. Like, majorly sucked. He could critique himself on just about everything else, from his artwork to his handwriting to his fighting style, but grammar and spelling and punctuation? He drew a blank. Every. Single. Time.

Stephanie took a sip of her orange juice, and sighed, propping up her head on her fist, setting the glass down with a neat _click_. They were at Duke’s apartment, which was paid off and all that, meaning that he owned it at the moment, considering his parent's situation. He had to pay for the heating, water, plumbing and all the rest, but it was still his. He didn't even really pay for it, considering their group.

These days, he mostly used it as a place to crash after patrols.

“Here’s my offer,” she countered. “You make me waffles, and I’ll convince Jason to do it.”

“Jason?”

The last time Duke had checked, Jason died at fifteen. He only knew that because Jason mentioned his death daily. So, Duke wasn’t sure that that the best idea for not failing English was Jason.

“He’s a literature nerd,” Stephanie explained, looking slightly more awake than she had earlier, probably thanks to her orange juice and the bacon that they’d microwaved. “I think he actually has a degree in it. But yeah, he’s like, the only reason I passed high school English, so. If you make me some waffles, then I'll bully him into helping you."

* * *

Duke made her waffles, which delighted her. Stephanie threw a jacket at him, because it was raining and jackets were available to the two of them, and they biked to Jason’s apartment. Duke was old enough to have a learner's licence, and he did have a learner's licence, and Stephanie had a driver's licence, but it wasn’t with her, and they didn’t have a car at his apartment. So they biked instead.

Jason’s apartment wasn’t that far from Duke’s. He wasn’t sure if that was on purpose since Jason’s old apartment was set on fire at some point the year before, or just happenstance, but he was fairly certain the former was the right answer since Jason had, more than once, dragged him back to one of their places and he’d woken up the next morning in his own bed. Or maybe that was just Jason trying to show that he cared without being obvious about it. Jason is weird like that, not that Duke could talk, weird meta-powers and all.

They carried their bikes up to Jason’s apartment since it was Gotham. Even locking your bike up outside an apartment was a clear sign to get it stolen. Outside a coffee shop or the like? Nah, you could come out at any moment. But an apartment was fair game.

The wheels left wet trails of water along the halls, their footprints, right beside the thin water trails. The place smelt like rain, cigarette smoke, and body odour, but that was probably because Duke’s apartment was on the edge of the nice part of town, and Jason's apartment building was right outside of it.

Stephanie pulled out a key chain from around her neck, and jammed one of them into the lock, opening the door. Duke has a similar, deadbolt lock. Barbara and Tim had thoroughly terrified him with their conversations about the takeover of AI, and since he can’t hack all that well, he was going old-school for the rest of his life, thank you very much.

Jason wasn’t in the living room, which is just furnished with a chesterfield and coffee table, nor is he in the kitchen, which leaves the single bedroom. Stephanie pushed Duke down onto the couch, their bikes leaning against the wall, and kicked the base of the bedroom door with her foot.

“Open up!” she shouted, not loud enough to draw attention from the neighbours, but loud enough to wake Jason, should he be asleep. She kicked the base of the door a second time, making it rattle in its frame, and then a once more, getting ready to land a fourth kick, only stopping when Jason opened the door, a sleek silver-and-black gun in hand, pointed at her face.

Duke knew it wasn’t loaded, because while Stephanie threw her hands up demanding why that was his first response, his powers acted up, and he mouthed the words alongside Jason.

“It’s not loaded, blondie.”

“I don’t know that, do I?” Stephanie crossed her arms over her chest as the gun vanished, her expression a cross between scorn and irritation. Not fear and horror. “Whatever, Duke needs your help with school, go help him.”

“Blondie, I died at fifteen.” Jason was already walking into the living room, where Duke had set his binder out on the coffee table. He threw himself down beside Duke, closing his eyes and leaning his head back, dressed in jeans and a black shirt, a lack of shadows under his eyes. “What makes you think I can help?”

“You recite Shakespeare,” Stephanie pointed out, perching on the side of the chesterfield. “And critique any writing you see, correct the damn essay.”

“Is that the only reason you guys are here?”

“Well, he tried to get me to do it, bribed me with waffles.”

Jason opened his eyes, turning his head to look at Duke. The stripe of white at his forehead is something Duke has finally adjusted to, at long last. At first, he’d thought it was a style choice. A stupid one, considering both Jason Todd and Red Hood had it, which went against basically every training lecture on safety ever, and then he’d been creeped out by why it was there, and he’d only recently adjusted his mindset to consider it normal.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Jason said mockingly, sitting up straight and reaching for the binder. “Something you should know is that I’m the only person who can pass English in this family. Everyone else would fail without my help.”

“Dick passed without your help.” Stephanie was banging around in the kitchen, and she came back with three cups. One with water, one with some weird bubbly drink, and one that Duke wasn’t sure of the contents. He lifted his hand, accepting the water, and let Jason take the mystery cup.

“Dick scrapped by,” Jason corrected, flipping open the binder. The first page was the first section of the essay, as Duke was fairly organized when it came to school work. “He guessed half the answers on those tests.”

“Of course he did,” with a sigh, Stephanie dropped onto the ground, on the far side of the coffee table, pulling her backpack closer to herself, and taking out her laptop with one hand. Sipping at her drink, she opened it up, humming to some pop song.

“Your spelling,” Jason noted, running his finger along the loose-leaf page marred by pencils and pens and highlighters, not looking up, “Sucks.”

“Thanks, I don’t get that from my teachers enough.”

“Least you use capitals in the right place. Unlike _someone_.”

Stephanie hunched her shoulders and hid behind her laptop screen, very pointedly not looking at either of her brothers.

_Brothers_.

Oh, shit. Duke sucked in a breath, leaning back and staring at the white, popcorn-textured ceiling. Jason had called them that before, and Cassandra was always open to more siblings, but even after a year of being a part of the Clan, this was the first time Duke had really thought of them like that without actively knowing it. Holy shit, he was a part of this family now. With this person--not dad, more like an uncle, if anything--who communicated in grunts more than anything else, a brother who had taught him to do Olympic level acrobatics, siblings who could hack, who’d taught him to act, disappear, blend in, lie, manipulate, read reports, Latin, Spanish, Mandarin. 

He was part of this family now. He still had his family, his parents and their relatives. But he had them too. And that was... strangely reassuring, since well, most of them were former assassins, could kill him, had tried to murder each other at some point, had died before, etc, etc.

He hadn’t done those things yet. Tim assured him it was only a matter of time before he became a member of the Dead Robins club. Duke was strangely okay with that. Nobody in this family stayed dead if they were a vigilante. He’d be fine. And if not, Jason would probably avenge him, which was cool with Duke.

“Is Duke dying?” Stephanie asked, in that way of hers that wasn’t really concerned, but if the answer to her question was _yes_ , then you’d better be ready for a tornado. “Because he looks like he’s dying.”

“Not dying,” Duke muttered, and somebody poked him in the kneecap. He swatted them away, and Stephanie snickered. “Just had a minor crisis.”

“Ah, so you’ve finally had a heart-stopping realization?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Duke, you do not spell cheese as C-H-E-E-S-S-E-E. How did you even write this?”

Duke groaned and hid his face in the chesterfield's armrest. He was not dealing with criticisms today, even if they were from someone who was doing him a favour. No thanks.


	2. when rome’s in ruins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten minutes. Slightly harder. But he could do it, he was trained, he’d been pushed beyond his limits hundreds of times. He would make it.
> 
> If Jason hadn’t sprouted. If he hadn’t somehow overcome years on the streets to tower over the rest of them, this would be easier. Easier to carry him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger warning for drowning. Read with care.

Jason hit the water hard, and began to sink, down, down, down. Blood swirled around him, and his gun slipped out of his hands. His eyes were shut, and he didn’t try to move, to breathe or exhale or swim. He just sunk like a stone, down, down, down. Bullets trailed through the water, slowing to a stop, not a single one touching him, all falling down, down, down.

* * *

Tim saw it happen. Saw the guy Jason was fighting, deliver a strike to the throat, saw Jason move with it, saw his stumble, the foot planted in his chest sending him off the roof. Tim slammed the end of his staff into his opponent's jaw, in a sharp uppercut, and spun. The bo shrank, and he shoved it behind him, already running, throwing a disk at the one who’d attacked Jason, and jumping off the roof.

His hands came together, palms flattening to take the impact of the water three stories below, his feet together. Tim hit the water and swum down, bullets sinking through the water around him. Jason wasn’t moving, and Tim grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him.

A stream of bubbles rose from Jason’s mouth, but he didn’t respond, and Tim spun his brother around, grasping him under the arms, and slipping a rebreather into Jason’s mouth, hoping it might help.

He kicked and strained. Jason wasn’t short, or light. Tim was. Tim didn’t have the muscle to rival Kate or Bruce’s, he wasn’t taller than most of the people in their family. He was strong though. And he was a Robin. Robin didn’t give up, ever. So Tim swam, lungs already burning as he angled towards the docks, bullets sinking around him and Jason.

He surfaced below the dock, exhaling soft and controlled, pulling Jason above the surface. He wasn’t responding still, and gunshots lit up the night, ringing through Tim’s ears. There was no way he could take out the rest of the criminals on his own, with an injured Jason. He had to wait.

Shouting. The bullets stopped. A shout of victory. Tim swallowed, adjusting his hold on Jason, holding his brother against his chest, under the arms, fingers arched, holding Jason’s head back, opening his airway.

Five minutes. Easy enough. Tim could breathe, and he could hear Jason breathing. They were fine. It was so much easier, before everything. Before Jason dug out of his grave and Kate found him on the streets, catatonic. When Jason laughed and wrapped his arms around Tim, who, despite being three years younger, was taller.

Ten minutes. Slightly harder. But he could do it, he was trained, he’d been pushed beyond his limits hundreds of times. He would make it. If Jason hadn’t sprouted. If he hadn’t somehow overcome years on the streets to tower over the rest of them, this would be easier. Easier to carry him.

Twenty minutes. Starting to tire. Tim adjusted his hold on Jason, as if it might help, and did his best. People were still moving around. Tim would have been taller, in the end. It would have been so much easier, to do this, with an older brother who was smaller.

Forty. It was starting to push it. Tim’s suit's insulation was faltering, water trickling in, and he was shivering.

An hour. Tim was barely staying up, legs burning, eyes shut. He wanted to go home, and cuddle with Ace and Jason on the couch and watch some dumb anime show that he didn’t even care about.

Hour fifteen. Tears trickled past Tim’s mask. The only thing keeping them afloat was sheer determination and training. He couldn’t feel his fingers or toes.

“Please,” Tim rasped out, hair swirling around him. He was trying to float, but it wasn’t working. “Please, someone.”

Nothing. Tim let out a sob, hiding it in Jason’s hair. He lost track of time, legs slowly kicking back and forth, one hand around his brother, the other trying to hold them up via the bottom of the docks.

Silence. Tim waited, daring to hope.

Nothing.

An hour and a half.

Tim couldn’t. A bullet through the brain was faster than drowning. He struggled towards the shore, going under more than once. He grasped at the ladder, trying to haul himself and Jason up. Everything ached. Forget running, he was going to tread water in full gear with Jason on his back now as cardio.

His hands trembled, struggling to grasp at the ladder, and he crashed down on the docks, water streaming off of him and Jason. Wheezing sobs came out in gasps, and Tim couldn’t bring himself to move. His eyes slid shut, and somehow, through his shivering, he curled up against Jason. Like they were kids again, like Jason had just recently become Robin and suddenly put on more muscle than Tim knew how to deal with like they were sleeping together because Jason was exhausted and Tim had nightmares. Like Dick was curled around the two of them, and like Stephanie, who’d been the shortest of them, was curled like a cat on Jason’s abs and Tim’s chest.

Like everything was okay again. Like the only PTSD they had was manageable, usually nightmares. Like they were all sane again. Like Jason didn’t have an autopsy scar and hadn’t slit Tim’s throat. Like Stephanie hadn’t been raped and gone into a centre, terminating the pregnancy, sobbing. Like Dick hadn’t taken the cowl and made Tim his Robin.

Tim curled up against Jason tighter, pressing against his brother, shaking, tears silently trickling down his cheeks.

Like Jason could still disarm bombs without dissociating and Stephanie could save rape victims without beating the rapist into a pulp, as Dick could still see crowbars and not remember breaking the Joker.

Like, like, like.

“We’re broken,” Tim said, maybe aloud, maybe not. “Jay, we’re _so_ broken.”

* * *

_“Glitter Force! Doki, doki!”_

Tim’s eyes opened. He was warm, arms wrapped around him, a weight on his legs. Ace, snoring on his stomach. Jason, holding him. Some TV show playing in the background.

“Wh’m’I th’ punchin’ b’g?” he croaked out, and Jason scoffed, breath ruffling his hair. Tim was pulled up higher against Jason, who was warm. “D’n wanna be.”

“Sure, Timmers,” Jason said quietly, smelling like leather and a bit of sweat and Ace. “Take it up with the thugs.”

Tim grumble-groaned, and shifted, burrowing into the space between the back of the chesterfield and Jason, hiding his head under Jason’s arm.

Okay, maybe Big Jason was really annoying when you were trying to save his ass, but when you were cold or cuddling, Big Jason was the best.

“Mm,” Tim said because he couldn’t remember if Jason had said something else, and that should be good enough of an answer. With a soft sigh, he went limp, arms around his brother, almost managing to wrap all the way around.

“Y’re t’ big,” Tim decided sleepily, nuzzling against Jason’s side. “Miss littl’ yo’.”

Jason laughed at that, shaking slightly, arms tightening around his brother. “Sure, Timbo. Think you need to go to sleep now, huh?”

“Mm.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon on Tumblr asked: Can you do jason giving tim a wedgie? The batfam doing normal sibling crap is always funny to me

_“Jason!”_

“Oh, here we go again,” Stephanie grumbled, but she was smirking, hiding it behind the waffles that were dripping in maple syrup - the good syrup, not the fake stuff that tasted like glue. “Cass, take cover.”

Cassandra giggled, and put her own waffle - not yet covered in butter and syrup, thankfully - on her head, as if it were a helmet, and hiding her face with her other waffle. Duke snorted, then choked on his pancake. Carrie eagerly reached over and thumped him on the back with the heel of her palm a few times.

“Unnessicary,” Duke wheezed out, and she just smirked at him, the expression sliding off her face as Tim slid into the kitchen, changing to one of utter boredom.

“Where’s Jason?” Tim demanded, grabbing onto the counter to keep his balance. Stephanie shrugged, and Cass laughed again, now trying to stack waffles on her head. She was up to four. Duke, wisely, kept his mouth shut, and Carrie blinked at Tim slowly, as if he’d just announced that he was an alien. “Seriously? Are _none_ of you loyal to me?”

“Loyal to my survival, maybe. Loyal to your Jason-revenge? Nope,” Stephanie bit into her waffle, syrup dripping over the edges and down her fingers. “Have fun though!”

Tim scowled at them, and Cass’s hands flashed through the air, once she set the fifth waffle on her head. “What's wrong?”

My laptop’s missing.”

“Did you forget it in the basement?” Stephanie suggested, through a mouthful of syrupy goodness. Tim’s scowl deepened. “You do that sometimes.”

“I put it on my desk!”

“You put a lot of things on your desk.” Carrie had no emotion in her voice, expression, or movement. She was a blank slate, not a single ripple visible or audible. “Go check again.”

Tim whirled around and gave her the finger over his shoulder. Cass took her waffles off her head and grabbed the syrup, dumping it over the top one, and signing with her free hand. “Mean.”

“I agree with Cass!” Duke shouted after Tim, who was no longer in sight. “You’re mean!”


	4. strangers like me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duke's been a part of the Clan for a while now. And it's only just now that he's learning that there's more than one Nightwing.

"Dick?"

"Yes?"

"Nightwing's in Blüdhaven..."

Dick leaned back in his chair, spinning it a bit so he could see the screen of Duke's phone better. The younger vigilante was biting his lower lip, trying very hard not to look as confused as he felt. But Dick just shrugged, pulling his feet up and crossing them on the chair, slurping at the itchy band noodles he'd heated up in the microwave. "That's just Steph. She's covering for me tonight."

"But... Stephanie's a girl."

Dick gasped, mock-offended, falling back in his chair, the hand that held the spork going to his heart. "Did you just assume her _gender_?!"

Duke snorted, lowering his phone, and studying the image a bit closer. It wasn't great quality, and he'd just found it on Tumblr, which he'd been browsing out of boredom. But it was captioned with _NIGHTWING SEEN AT MARKS OVERPASS!_ , and the picture showed someone sitting on the edge of a bridge's railing, legs dangling over the edge, like in that scene from Deadpool 2. "Why's Steph Nightwing?"

"Nightwing II." Dick corrected, blowing on his noodles. "And it's fairly simple. Cass is with the Birds of Prey doing... whatever they're doing. That means that Babs is playing Batgirl with them, so someone had to play Oracle, and since Tim has that mission with Kon, I offered to do it. Meaning that somebody needs to be Nightwing. Jason isn't interested right now, and Kate and Bette are doing their Hawkfire-Batwoman thing in the Narrows.

"And you're here because you got shot for the third time, which, well done, you're not dead yet. Anyways. So, Kate, Bette, Cass, Jay, you, me, Babs, and Tim can't be Nightwing. And that left Stephanie, Harper, Cullen, Damian, Claire, Alfred, Bruce and Carrie. But Claire's still adjusting to being depowered and Carrie - Babs would murder me if I let her play Nightwing in Blüdhaven all by herself, not to mention there's no Neon Nightwing uniform for her to use yet, Alfred doesn't do the running around thing, Bruce is too grumpy for Nightwing, Harper and Cullen are doing their Bluebird and Bluejay thing, so that left Steph. And I guess Damian, but he's stalk - patrolling with Jason."

Duke blinked. "So, Stephanie's just Nightwing."

"The Second."

"This happens a lot, doesn't it?"

Dick shrugged. "You were a Robin. Everyone's been a Robin at some point. Other than Bruce and Alfred and Kate. But the rest of us have. They're just names. They mean different things. Cass uses Black Bat when she wants to be friendlier, Orphan with the Birds of Prey, and Batgirl when she wants to scare the living crap out of people. And yeah. Originally it worked out fine because me and Jay looked pretty similar, so it took people a while to realize he wasn't the first Robin. And we just continued it. You'll probably pull Red Hood or Nightwing or Batman at some point."

"Oh."

Dick grinned at the younger vigilante, spinning his chair back around so he could watch the computers, where little dots were moving around on a map of the city, each labelled neatly with a numbered moniker. Batgirl IV, Robin V, Red Robin I, Bluebird I, Bluejay I. "It'll be interesting for you though. And also maybe very horrible."

"What do you mean?"

Dick turned back around, looking slightly more serious. "So, you know how Cass is half-white? White passing?"

"Uh-huh."

"And I'm Romani-slash-white passing, and you're black, and Damian's... English words are hard, but you get what I mean. And everyone else is white or passing."

"And?"

"When Cass first went out as Batgirl, she wore one of Babs uniforms that was refitted cuz it was faster than getting a new one, and there was a lot of confusion at first. So probably going to send you out as Red Hood first, or at least someone with a full-face mask, because trust me, you do not want to deal with racism while adjusting to a different persona."

Dick shuttered. "That was not a good day."

Duke winced. "I'll bet."

"But most of the time it's fine, you know? People don't care who's saving them, just that they're safe. Stephanie also wears a purple logo instead of blue so she's not stomping on my ground. Jason doesn't try and pretend to be someone different, so he wears blue. Tim's only been Nightwing once. Not bendy enough."

"And you're saying I am?"

Dick's grin did not reassure Duke in the least. "You're still in training. I think I can make you into a good Nightwing."

"Is it bad that you're making me nervous?"

"No, just means that you're smart. And have brain cells."

"Excuse me, I jumped out of a moving police car on a bridge, how am I smart?"

"You haven't set Dami off yet or faked your death or actually died and come back to life."

"Fucking Christ why is that the bar."

Dick snickered, only to be cut off by the person playing Nightwing. Or, Nightwing II.

_"You know the comms are on, right?"_ Stephanie asked, voice filtering in through the speakers. _"And also, we_ have _to have a Nightwing team-up. Duke, you're going to be Nightwing III, I claim it now! You'll wear yellow!"_

"Oh my god, no." Duke moaned, hiding his face in his hands. Stephanie laughed, and he could hear the wind in the background, her breathing heavy but even, indicating she was running. "Stop."

_"Your entire uniform is yellow!"_ she crowded, and there was a grunt of effort; she'd jumped or something along those lines. _"Shouldn't be too difficult!"_

"I don't know how to use those stick things. Or even what they're _called_."

_"We can teach you!"_

She was running again. Dick was grinning at Duke, obnoxiously slurping his noodles, and Duke reached out with his foot, pushing Dick's chair away from his own. Instead, it sent his chair rolling away, and made Dick laugh.

_"Also, Duke?"_

"Yeah?"

_"I identify as a muther-fucking badass, thank you very much."_

"Uh-huh, and your pronouns?"

_"Awesome and Amazing."_

"Sure. Sure."


	5. memories turn to dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My brain, watching Young Justice S2 around midnight: Remember that line from S1E1? About the Batcave being crowded? Wouldn’t that make Tim Red Robin by now? Shouldn’t he have experience?
> 
> Also my brain: yeah, that’s real now

“There’s nothing there,” Jamie said, and Robin, leaning back in his seat, frowned. It was really hard to get a read on the guy, who wore grey, black and red. A cloak ran over his shoulders, a hood pulled up over his head, covering his hair, and Jamie got the sensation that they were missing something really obvious.

Then the guy stood up and headed straight for the back of the bioship. Jamie exchanged a look with La’gaan, who was piloting and also didn’t know jack about their team leader's temperament or attitude. (Neither did Jamie, but all the same.) Standing up, Jamie hurried towards the back of the bioship, where - for _fucks_ sake.

“Did our leader just -” La’gaan asked, appearing beside him, and Jamie groaned, jumping out of the ship, after Robin, who was plummeting towards the ocean’s waves. Jamie hit the water hard, and bubbles rose, clouding his vision. By the time his vision had cleared, La’gaan had joined him, and Robin was swimming down, his cloak still on, the hood down, the material rippling in the water.

La’gaan towed Jamie towards their moron of a leader - seriously, the bioship hadn’t been anywhere near the waves. Who jumped out at that height? - who was already pushing through seaweed, revealing a tunnel.

Robin turned to face the other two members of their team, a rebreather held between his teeth supplying him with air, a circular doorway behind him, that was glitching, jerking open and closed.

Jamie activated his jetpack, grabbing onto Robin’s hand, and towing him along, as La’gaan held the doorway open. Robin let him pull him along, his cloak waving back and forth as they cut through the water, and then they hit a dead end.

Floating there, the three of them gathered in a circle, Robin lifting his wrist, and activating his computer - apparently, that worked underwater, neat. He pointed at something, bubbles rising from the sides of the rebreather, and the computer turned off.

At first, Jamie thought it was because of something to do with the water. Maybe the salt was doing something to the mechanics of the computer?

But then Robin reached up to where the cloak was pinned, at the center of his collarbone, where the two bandoleer-esque sashes met. He undid it, and let the material sink to the bottom of the cave floor, kicking his feet, and rising upwards, giving Jamie a very good look at the toe boots he was wearing.

Also very neat. Very ninja.

(He’d been spending too much time with Gar.)

La’gaan shrugged and followed Robin, who reached an armoured hand up, grasping the rock ceiling, and with his free hand, pulled out the wrist computer again. Seemingly checking something, he nodded to himself, and then let go of the ceiling, tapping at the screen with one finger, doing something.

A circular section of the cave ceiling rose upwards, and Robin swam into it, and up. Jamie and La’gaan followed, and Jamie reflected that holy shit this was weird. His totally normal - apparently. Jamie wasn’t 100% convinced - teammate was leading him, who had an alien thing stuck to his spine, and an Atlantean through an underwater cave system.

La’gaan probably should have been leading, considering he could live underwater. And the moment they entered the newest tunnel, he did take the lead, speeding ahead, and letting Jamie grab Robin’s hand like before, towing him along. 

They reached the surface, and head towards shore as quietly as they could. The entire cave was filled with the noise of the little aliens, and Robin led them to take cover behind one of the platform things.

“Robin to Cave,” Robin whispered, a hand rising towards his ear, activating his comm. Probably. That or he had water in his - no, that was a comm. “Our Zeta readings? Way off. We’ve got at least two hundred Kroloteans here.”

“Probably more, _ese_ ,” Jamie muttered, pointing over to the wall, where tunnels seemed to lead to other levels. Robin’s face moved in a way that Jamie knew meant he was narrowing his eyes, but he didn’t say anything, continuing to study the Kroloteans.

“We need to wait for backup.” he decided finally. “You two aren’t experienced enough to handle something on this scale.”

La’gaan and Jamie exchanged a look, as Jamie ignored Scarb’s retort that only he could hear. La’gaan hadn’t been on the Team any longer than Jamie had been, and while Robin was trained by Batman, and pretty obviously, Nightwing, and Batgirl, he hadn’t spent any more time in the field than La’gann and Jamie had

“And you are?” La’gaan asked, and Robin gave him a Look.

A Look, as Artemis had explained, the one time she’d been at Mount Justice and spoken to Jamie, was something you never wanted to see on a Bat. It meant that shit was about to go down. It meant they knew something you didn’t and were enjoying that. It meant a billion other things, but Jamie was pretty sure the two reasons mentioned were the important ones, at least on this particular mission.

“More so than you guys,” Robin said, turning his Look back into his regular, passive expression. “Oh look. We’ve been spotted.”

_Fucking_ _Christ_.

"And who's fault is that?" La'gaan grumbled, glaring at Robin, who, of course, didn't take notice of it. Or just ignored it. Probably number two.

"Who's the one who has stealth training?" Jamie retorted, eyes narrowing at the Atlantean, who always seemed to be able to come up with a barb at the wrong place, and the wrong time. Robin ignored them both, drawing his staff and taking up a position, already issuing orders to form up in a defensive position. Jamie didn't hesitate to do as instructed, letting Scarab advise him on just how he should take out the Kroloteans, focusing on hovering in the air to Robin's left, and mowing down the creatures, letting the armour keep track of Robin and La'gaan, a little pop-up in the corner of his vision tracking their movements.

Robin wasn't as acrobatic as Nightwing was. Jamie hadn't seen the guy work in person as much as he'd like - seriously, he was legendary - but they watched a lot of old footage from the bioship and security camera's and even some (probably censored) memories that M'gann downloaded somehow to the Mountain's system, so he knew how the guy fought, just like he knew how Kaldur fought.

Robin didn't fight quite like that, and neither did La'gaan. Robin used a bo, as it was called, a staff roughly his height, give or take, instead of escrima sticks, and he fought with a strange amount of precision, moves seemingly calculated. 

And Kaldur had fought rough, but smart. He'd used brute force when needed, but he'd also played it smart, usually having a plan to start with. Jamie knew from old stories that Conner and M'gann told that going with the flow hadn't been easy for the old leader, but that with Kid Flash, Nightwing, Artemis and Conner on the Team, he hadn't had much choice but to figure it out. 

La'gaan didn't give two fucks about a plan. You pointed him at a wall, and he didn't even ask how hard he was supposed to hit it, he just broke it down. 

But he could still see the old Team members in how they moved. In how La'gaan executed a set of punches and kicks. In how Robin flipped backwards from a standstill, straight into a back flip, and kicked out with both feet, before he landed, and swung his staff, taking out a trio of the aliens.

"Uh, guys?" Jamie shouted, mowing down another group of Kroloteans. "They started a countdown!"

"How long?!" Robin demanded, not even questioning how Jamie knew, and slammed his staff into one Krolotean like a baseball bat, before they could take off running. "Where are the hostages?"

"Down below, I think!?" Jamie guessed, from the context the translations were giving him. He could only hope it was right.

"Clear a path!" Robin ordered, before yelling at La'gaan to duck, with enough authority that the Atlantean actually obeyed, and Robin rolled over the green-skinned fighter's back, launching a pair of throwing star things and lashing out with a kick, taking out those who'd been gunning for the aggressive team member. Jamie formed a sort of battering ram at the Scarab's suggestion and started to do what he'd been asked to, diving down through one of the tunnels, knocking little aliens out of his path, and landing, the room he ended up in clear, other than the cage in the middle.

Robin came skidding down the tunnel, rolling over his shoulder at the end, and ran past Jamie, towards the cage, and Jamie followed suit, La'gaan right beside him.

The captives cried out when they saw Robin, who stepped aside, pointing to the cage with one hand. "Lagoon Boy."

"On it," La'gaan responded, doing his thing, swelling in size and prying the cage apart. Jamie tried not to listen to the screaming that came from the captives, looking at Robin for reassurance. The older boy - Robin was older, right? Jamie would have to check with someone when they got back - gave Jamie a slight smile, before it faded, and he started to lead them out of the tunnels.

* * *

They crashed into the water, and Jamie grabbed onto two hands, activating his thrusters, and picking up speed immediately, bubbles trailing behind him. He knew La'gaan was probably doing the same, and that Robin was just swimming, most likely.

Heading for the surface, Jamie hoped that nobody would get the bends - that lecture had sucked and was terrifying - but at that moment, getting to the surface was the concern, not the air bubbles in their bloodstreams.

They broke into the air without any issues, both of the people that Jamie had grabbed ahold of coughing and wheezing for air. Jamie twisted in the water, looking for La'gaan and Robin. Robin was the main concern since La'gaan had gills. 

"Gamma Squad rules!" was how La'gaan announced his arrival. Robin slipped up silently, without a rebreather in view. Jamie wondered if he hadn't worn it on the way back, or if he'd just taken it out already. "Whoo!"

Jamie just breathed in fresh, unprocessed air, and gave the Scarab a degree of control over the armour, letting it work to keep them afloat, and closing his eyes for a brief moment, muscles going limp.

"Heads up," Robin said, treading water, and lifting one hand above the waves, pointing to the descending shapes in the sky. "League's here."

"And we're screwed," Jamie muttered because they probably were. He'd heard Nightwing's orders. No making a scene, no unnecessary risks to the group. Which... yeah, they'd broken both orders.

But all they got was a grin from Nightwing. "Nobody on this Team does stealth, huh? We always cause explosions."

Jamie found himself smiling up at the older hero, and he glanced over at Robin, to see the bird was smirking knowingly at him.

Of course, Robin hadn't been worried in the least.

Why _wasn't_ Jamie surprised? 


	6. gonna walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon on Tumblr asked: ur profile pic is of babs as robin so i was wondering if you would write a jason todd and bizarro story where jason has a nightmare and bizarro wakes him up and sees the autopsy scar, fluffy, not slashy plz

“Red him?”

Jason rolled over, blinking his eyes open, Bizarro coming into focus, sharpening alongside his mind. Sitting up, Jason threw the covers off, swinging his legs off the bed, and his feet onto the floor. “Yeah, Biz?”

“Bad dream?”

Of fucking course Bizarro would be able to pick up on that. Jason rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, realizing that oh, he was still in full gear, gloves, jacket, mask and all. Removing the last item, Jason looked up, to meet Bizarro’s gaze. “Yeah.”

Bizarro nodded, still kneeling on the ground before Jason, and the older vigilante dropped his head into his hands, exhaustion clinging to him like Dick when the guy wanted a hug. Damn octopus man.

“What about?”

Jason groaned softly not wanting to go there, and stood up, walking towards the bathroom. He heard Bizarro rise, and follow him, but he didn’t care, stripping out of the Red Hood uniform and pulling on jeans, searching for a hoodie.

“What this?” Bizarro asked, grabbing Jason’s shoulder, making him turn, and pointing at his autopsy scar. Jason’s throat tightened, and he felt tears spark in his eyes.

“Autopsy scar,” he mumbled, turning away from the clone, and opening the cupboard under the sink, where he found a hoodie. Pulling it on, he inhaled the scent of the Mansion. Dick's slightly sweaty smell mixed with Tim's coffee addiction and the slightly spicy scent of Cass' deodorant.

Jason tried not to cry, even as he slid down against the wall, knees pulled partway up to his chest. Cass and Tim always stole his clothes. Dick had probably gotten it from one of them after patrol or a workout, and Alfred had probably put it away, back in Jason's room, which was how it got here, to his safehouse.

"Scar?"

"You don't know much about me, do you?" Jason said dully, knowing that Bizarro didn't. The clone shuffled over, sitting down beside Jason, making him feel like that ten-year-old kid again, Dick wrapped around him after he woke up screaming, murmuring in a language that Jason didn't know, still barely knew. "I died, Biz. I was in a coffin."

"But... alive?"

"I got better," Jason said, curling in on himself, twirling one of the hoodie's strings around and around his finger, focusing on that, and not other things.

Cassandra spinning in a graceful circle. Stephanie holding up a plate of maple syrup-drenched Eggo waffles. Dick wrapping his arms around Jason, despite being smaller - when had Jason got this big, he didn't know, he kept on running into doorframes and tables - than his younger brother, rocking Jason back and forth.

"How?"

"You don't wanna know," Jason said, closing his eyes. "But I promise you, Biz, if someone tries to do it to you, I won't let them. Dead people should stay dead, no matter how much it hurts."

"Red him sad."

Jason scoffed. "Yeah."

And that was a hug. Jason froze, tense, ready to snap. He could beat Bizarro into the ground, he had no doubt, if he didn't care about hurting or killing the guy. So he wasn't worried about that, but still. This was... unexpected.

Tim slamming into his chest, his arms wrapping around Jason's torso and fuck, had he been this small as Robin? Barbara grabbing his arm and judo-flipping him, all while in her wheelchair, smirking down at him. Damian shoving a piece of artwork into his hands, a sketch of Red Hood, as a hero.

Jason slumped against the big guy. "Sorry for waking you up."

"Me have bad dreams too," Bizarro said, and Jason wiggled his hand free, patting the guy's knee. "Red him help. Me am help red him."

"Thanks, Biz."


	7. rather be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon on Tumblr asked: Have you seen the mermaid AU by Symeona for the batfam? Can you write something for babs with that?

“Hey, Barbara?”

Barbara turned, using her arms to twist through the water, the fins that hung from her sides waving gently in the currents, hair swirling around her head. Stephanie was there, pale purple tail fluttering in the currents push and pull, her hair held back by a series of pins that had to be either Alfred or Selina’s work.

“What’s up?” Barbara asked, reaching for the young mer, who reached right back, grasping Barbara’s forearms in her hands. “You alright?”

“Just a dream,” Stephanie muttered, twisting her tail around Barbara's practically useless one, the older mer pulling her in for a hug. "Bad dream."

"Mm." Barbara agreed, wrapping her arms around the blonde, the backless top she was wearing letting Barbara's fingers run over the knotted scars that ran over the skin. "I get those too."

"I know," Stephanie said quietly, adjusting her position, tail still curled around Barbara's, torso still pressed against Barbara's, but letting herself look at the faintly glowing fore-sight orbs that Barbara had been studying. "What's all this?"

"Just keeping an eye out," Barbara said easily, wrapping her arms around Stephanie a second time, in an embrace. The stub that ended her tail swayed back and forth, the wrappings around it needing changing sometime soon. "Don't want any nasty surprises."

"Has that happened?" Stephanie asked, and Barbara gave her a little squeeze, resting her chin on the girl's head.

"Only once. But that's why I'm watching. But you, you should be asleep."

Stephanie giggled, leaning her head back against Barbara's chest, so she could look up and meet the red-haired mer's gaze. "I should be lots of things."

"And you are lots of things." Barbara agreed, eyes glancing up to the fore-sight orbs, noticing the reflection of Dick in one of them. "And one of them is going back to be right now."

Stephanie pouted. Barbara laughed, gently prying the younger mer off of herself, and giving her a little push, back towards the deeper section of the caves. Stephanie would grumble all the way there, Barbara knew, but she’d also curl up against someone tight as possible and fall asleep.

“Babs.” Dick greeted, reaching a hand out to her, and gently twisting around her. She smiled at him, turning with the motion, letting him guide her. Black and blue, coral red and light purple. “Still up.”

“You’re up too.” she reminded him, and he grinned at her, twisting around her so that she was in the position Stephanie had been, just minutes before, with him hugging her from behind, the only difference how his tail curled around hers, instead of hers around his.

"Yeah, we're both rule-breakers." he agreed, lifting a hand, a faint blue pulse twirling around his fingers, and the fore-sight orbs raced through different images, settling on a new set, one of which showed their school.

Stephanie, of course, was pressed against Cassandra, their tails wound together, back to back. Damian was alone, curled up in Dick's usual sleeping spot, while Tim and Duke were together like Cass and Stephanie were, all black and gold and ruby red.

"You okay?" she asked softly, noticing the ripple that crossed the fore-sight orb, a glimpse of a memory, instead of real-time. Dick hummed softly, the image stabilizing once more.

"Are any of us."

"'S okay to miss him," Barbara said, leaning back against Dick. "Makes you real."

"I know," Dick said quietly, hiding his face in her neck, and she held back a laugh. "Just worried 'bout Tim, you know?"

"We all are," Barbara said, her hand glowing with a coral-red pulse, tinged with purple, and the fore-sight orb morphed to a memory, of a hunter, red mask, black suit, slamming Tim into a cave wall, landing an elbow strike to his temple. The image froze, twisting and narrowing in on the human's helmet. "It's natural to be."

"They're strange though," Dick said, still hiding in her shoulder, his voice muffled. "That new one, I don't know how we haven't seen then, they don't send new humans in this deep."

"Shark bait?" Barbara suggested, and Dick shook his head. "I don't know then. Maybe Dami has another sibling?"

"Who's the father? B?"

"Who knows." Barbara sighed, and Dick's fluke folded around the stub of her tail, tips of his fins rubbing gently against her scales. "You should be asleep though, seriously."

"So should you," Dick muttered. "How 'bout we just sit here, m'kay?"

"Fine," Barbara said, trying to sound stern, but she knew she failed at it, leaning back against Dick, and letting her eyes slide shut. "Don't want someone to barge in though."

"We got warning spells." Dick reminded her. "Let's just stay here Babs, let's just exist for a little while."

* * *

On the surface, someone stared at the ocean waves, the moon silver across the endless movement of the water, salt filling their nose. Hands clenched on newly found knees, eyes closed tightly, longing and guilt and hate and pain and fear rushing all together like a whirlpool that he could never break free of.


	8. feet can't touch the ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dick Grayson was eight, the Flying Grayson's performed in Gotham. The ropes snapped, and five people went tumbling through the air, falling right into the safety net. Nobody died.

When Dick Grayson was eight, the Flying Grayson's performed in Gotham. The ropes snapped, and five people went tumbling through the air, falling right into the safety net. Nobody died.

When Dick Grayson was nine, Haly's Circus moved to Europe to perform. He learned how to speak Russian and German better than before, and he was happy.

When Dick Grayson was ten, he and his cousin John performed without their families for the first time, swinging through the air, John the catcher, and Dick the flyer.

When Dick Grayson was eleven, they moved back North America for a year and a half touring the northern states and parts of Canada.

When Dick Grayson was twelve, they began on another European tour.

When Dick Grayson was thirteen, the circus was about to be shut down.

* * *

M’gann is partnered with the boy. His name is Dick, he’s thirteen, and as it turns out, is practically an expert at all things related to the circus. He cheerfully shows her how he can slip out of handcuffs in the first five minutes of meeting him.

He talks. A lot. Most of it isn’t English, and M’gann can’t translate the rest of it because he switches between what she’s fairly sure is French, German, Russian, Italian and maybe two others so fast that it’s like he’s speaking his own language. She’s able to get the gist of it from his mental imprints, but it’s still harder because he’s not consciously projecting.

His cousin, John, comes around, ruffles his hair, and tells him to please speak English or at least slow down so M’gann knows what he’s talking about. Dick grabs onto John’s arm and somehow flips up and over, so that he’s crouched on the older boy’s shoulder, like a bird. Then he flips off, sticks the landing perfectly, and rolls forwards over his shoulder, stopping right in front of her.

She’s supposed to be learning from him. She went through trapeze training before the mission, and she's watched things, learned things, so she knows how it’s supposed to work, but she’s still following Dick along.

His wrists are wrapped, not unlike what Artemis sometimes uses when she boxes, and chalk dusts his fingers and the grips, and he’s barefoot, hair wild, black leggings and a hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to his biceps. She’s just in leggings and a t-shirt, and she gets the sense that it’s chilly, if the way some of the other performers are rubbing their bare arms means anything.

“Where you from, anyway?” he asks, and she freezes, for barely a second. If Dick notices, he doesn’t say anything, taking the time to dislocate his thumb for no visible reason and studies how it hangs. He relocates it, and she forms her answer.

“We’re from Central City, in America.”

“Been there,” Dick says brightly, dislocating his other thumb. She winces, and he picks up on it. “Sorry, um... force of habit?”

“It’s fine,” she mutters, slowly winding her wrappings around her hand. Dick did his in two seconds flat, and they’ve been sitting here, in the middle of the tent, for fifteen minutes now, as she struggles. “Why is this so difficult?”

“My dad hates them too,” Dick says, making a face. “He’s super slow.”

He reaches out and grabs her hand, and the wrappings, deftly winding them around her fingers and wrist and palm, tucking the ends in, and starting on the second. His fingers leave chalk on her skin.

“We’ll warm-up,” he says and begins to lead her through a complicated routine. If she couldn’t shapeshift, she’s fairly certain she wouldn’t be able to keep up, and even with that, she’s struggling, but Dick seems somewhat bored and chatters the entire time about the last time they were in Central City.

By the time they start on the trapeze, M’gann is thoroughly terrified. It’s about lunchtime, so the place is essentially empty, other than the rest of the Team and Dick’s cousin, who is watching over their practice session from the far side.

Dick throws his hoodie to the side of the platform, out of the way, revealing a simple t-shirt, and he swings across the gap between the two pillars, hooking his knees over the bar, and twists around on the way back, reaching for her hands. She grasps ahold of him, feels air all around her, and she’s thrown across the gap, right into John’s hands.

Somewhere in the routine, she realizes that Dick’s smaller than her, he should be the flyer, but he’s playing the role of catcher.

About ten minutes after they start, M’gann is deposited on the platform once more, and John and Dick go through their routine, with Dick as the flyer. They’re impressive, M’gann can’t deny it, nor does she want to.

She saw their show once, the Flying Graysons. Back on Mars, she watched a documentary that had them perform in it. Dick, back them, spoke even less English, was smaller, just as energetic, and just as talented. He’d been seven.

She’d been amazed back then. She was even more so now, watching the two cousins twist through the air, and flip and soar. It ended far too quickly, with Dick jumping off the platform that they’d stopped on, flipping backwards in a layout that was slow and serene, bouncing off the net. John hooked the bar into place, and jumped after his cousin, rolling off the netting.

Dick has his hoodie back on, and M'gann is fairly sure that it belongs to his cousin, from the size, the sleeves pushed up, the hem almost reaching his knees. The grips are off chalk powder all around the pocket of the hoodie, where he's put them, and he pulls his shoes on without bothering to untie the laces, and runs forwards and does a handless cartwheel that makes Artemis freeze in surprise.

She knows that the Grayson's fell. M'gann knows, so well. She was obsessed with the Flying Grayson's once, back then, only a few years ago. Learned everything she could.

It is like a dream. To fly with these people.


	9. no hope, just lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wayne Manor, simply put, was insane. The people who lived there were nuts, the things said people did were nuts, the entire thing was off the walls and upside down, in the professional opinion of Kara Zor-El, AKA Supergirl, AKA Kara Danvers.

Wayne Manor, simply put, was insane. The people who lived there were nuts, the things said people did were nuts, the entire thing was off the walls and upside down, in the professional opinion of Kara Zor-El, AKA Supergirl, AKA Kara Danvers.

“We don’t really do Valentine's Day,” Barbara said, leading Kara through the hallways. Even with superpowers, Kara was totally lost, and she’d only been in the mansion for about two seconds. Well, a little longer. But not that long.

“Why not?”

“We just don’t.” Barbara shrugged, pausing beside a painting on the wall. It was a watercolour and framed in tan wood, a glass pane over it, and the paper depicted someone falling, seemingly towards the viewer, their arms spread, a splash of violet across their chest and on their fingertips.

Barbara reached out, and adjust the image, straightening it, although, to Kara, it didn't seem to make a difference. "We don't exactly have any significant others. Dick and I had a fling, Stephanie did it with Tim, but otherwise, nothing. Just don't do it, there doesn't seem to be a point."

"That's kind of sad, isn't it?"

Barbara shrugged. "Valentine's Day is supposed to be about love. And everyone thinks romantic love, but platonic love is there too. We just... make more of an effort not to stab each other."

Kara blinked. "Okay. So, why'd you invite me?"

"I have been informed by people who have normal brains," Barbara began, and Kara started to grin, because yes. This was what she liked about Barbara, the ability to make fun of herself from time to time. "That you recently broke up with someone, and that I am supposed to provide support in the form of 'their loss' and other such reassurances."

Kara swatted at Barbara, laughing, and the redhead ducked the attack without even looking, continuing to walk down the hallway. "You're ridiculous."

"Least I never wore a skirt to fight crime," Barbara said, and Kara pouted.

"I was thirteen, c'mon!"

"Mm. Yeah, no, skirts are a bad idea. Anyways. Yeah, apparently non-aro people get really upset after a breakup, which is part of the reason how I figured out that bit, so eh. Whatever. So, this is me doing that."

Kara grinned. The gesture was nice, even if Barbara's phrasing was a bit odd. But it was still a nice gesture. "So, what's the plan? Punch some bad guys?"

Barbara shook her head, leading Kara into an office space, and stepping towards the clock. She opened the face of it, and spun the hands around, blocking Kara's view with her shoulders. There was a click, and a small noise that Kara knew was Barbara switching the time the clock displayed.

She could probably figure it out with her powers, but she didn’t really want to, because she knew the Bats had access to lots of sharp stabby things and space rocks and even without either of those, Kara was pretty sure they could hurt her a lot. And she didn’t want that.

So, Kara quietly followed Barbara down to the Batcave. Her footsteps would echo, Kara knew, just like she knew that Barbara hadn’t made a sound she could hear yet, other than speaking, so the Kryptonian took the liberty of rising into the air, just slightly, and hovering down after the ginger.

Noise echoed around the cave.

“Duck! Punch! Kick! Carrie, dodge!”

“I’m trying!” a voice that Kara hadn’t ever heard before screamed, sounding more than panicked. “This is difficult!”

“Was I this bad when I came up?” another new voice asked, and Kara glanced at Barbara, wondering exactly when new people had arrived. Barbara probably did notice, but chose to be mysterious and Bat-like and didn't react at all to Kara's look. 

"Terry, dodge! Other way! Not really, you had more training. Kick!"

The main cave came into view. On the training mats, a pair of teenagers were squaring off, both with their hands and wrists wrapped like a boxer. A bright-haired girl in a dark purple bra and black leggings, facing off against a smaller boy, who had black hair that stood on end and was in a white t-shirt and workout shorts. Gathered around the two was a large chunk of the Bat Clan, and Kara blinked, realizing that Barbara had vaulted over the stair's railing, despite being pretty high up.

Kara followed her, gliding down to the floor, and landing gently, hurrying after the vigilante, and trying to remember who was who.

Dick Grayson was easy. He was in a handstand, facing off against a blonde girl with her hair in a messy bun; Stephanie Brown, if Kara remembered right, who was also in a handstand. Damian Wayne was sitting cross-legged beside a dark-skinned boy that Kara didn't know.

"Hey, Kara!" Dick called, picking one hand off the ground, and waving at her. "Babs!"

"Hi." Kara greeted, somewhat nervously. Everyone in the Clan, other than Barbara, gave her the jitters. She knew exactly what they could do, or at least, some of the things they could do. They could probably do a lot more impressive stuff than what she knew of. And she trusted them, but at the same time, it was slightly freaky to know that they had access to and were willing to use kryptonite on her.

"Wait, this the -" the girl who was fighting grunted, taking a kick to the chest, stumbling backwards, and falling down. She rolled up, over her shoulder, and into a crouch, feet planted wide, and reached out, catching the boys follow-up kick. She thrust both hands up, and the boy let out a scream, as his back hit the mats.

The one boy that Kara didn't know who wasn't fighting, snorted and Damian hummed in agreement, stroking the grey-furred cat in his lap. Kara could hear the purring.

"The alien Kara?" the girl finished, as she and the fighting boy started to wrestle. Stephanie arched her back, toes pointed, sweat dripping off off her chin, bending her knees in a very complicated move that she managed to pull off.

"Yeah." Kara scratched at the back of her neck, then hid her hands behind her back, before sliding them into her sweater's pockets, trying to look harmless as possible. "That's me."

"Coo -" the girl started to say, only to be cut off a second time, by an elbow to her chin. She growled with fury, and grasped the boy's shoulders, driving her knee into his gut, and they rolled across the mat, vying for dominance.

"I don't know all of you," Kara admitted sheepishly, and Stephanie lifted her legs back up, arms trembling with the effort. Dick hummed thoughtfully, and bent his arms, like he was doing a handstand pushup, and flipped up to his feet. "Sorry."

"Right." Dick nodded and pointed over at the kid who was beside Damian. "That's Duke."

Great. Wonderful. Not helpful at all. Duke, thankfully, gave Kara a wave. "I'm Signal. The only meta allowed around here, because apparently, I don't count. S'cool."

She grinned at him. "I feel like you're the smart one."

Duke snorted. "Hell no."

"He jumped out of a police car. Off a bridge." Stephanie said, rising to her feet, and cracking her knuckles. Kara managed not to flinch; Stephanie was freaky, even when she wasn't trying to be. "So, slightly smarter than the rest of us."

"I didn't have much training," Duke added, and Kara blanched. That was... terrifying. "That's Terry and Carrie. He's the new Black Bat. She's the new Batgirl."

"I thought Barbara was Batgirl?" Kara asked, looking over at the ginger, who shrugged, grinning with a look that Kara knew meant I'm taking way too much pleasure in this and I know it but don't care."Aren't you Batgirl?"

"I was Batgirl for a hot second there!" Stephanie mentioned, doing a cartwheel. Carrie rolled ontop of Terry, in a somewhat compromising position, that Kara did not want to see, and she pinned his wrists down. He snarled at her and jerked his head forwards, almost headbutting her, but she leaned back, out of the way. He tore one hand free, and grabbed onto her bicep, yanking her to the side, and they started to wrestle again.

"Batgirl's like Robin," Duke pointed out, and Stephanie did a back handspring, cheerfully announcing I was Robin for a minute! "She gets passed around. Rite of passage. Carrie's the current one."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Duke nodded, and Kara realized that he had an earbud in, and was listening to one of those audio recorders that Lois and Clark used to keep track of what people said during interviews. She could guess what was loaded onto it, although she didn't really want to. A small notebook was in hand, and his hand moved across the page, pen in hand, marking symbols down.

She couldn't read it.

"Why'd Babs bring you 'round?" Dick asked as Stephanie did another back handspring. Carrie brought both her feet up as Terry charged at her, and slammed both into his chest, sending him flying, and giving her time to get up. Kara winced, automatically going to check the two for injuries, activating her x-ray vision.

And holy cow. Carrie had a barely healed broken arm and a lot of bruising, and the fact that Kara hadn't noticed it earlier, would have been concerning if she hadn't known that the Bats basically never showed bruises for whatever reason.

Terry didn't have any recently broken bones, but his ribs had been broken at some point, and he had just as much bruising as Carrie did, including a new one right on his shoulder. Fresh. Few hours at the most.

"Breakup," Barbara said, crossing her arms and jutting a hip out. Stephanie made an aw sound and threw herself into an aerial. Without any run-up. Rao. "Apparently friendships are supposed to be helpful in these situations, hell if I know, I Googled it."

Damian didn't react to that, and Duke pulled a face that Kara didn't want to figure out. Terry and Carrie were too busy kicking each other to give any meaningful reaction.

"I was supposed to have a date," Kara muttered, scuffing one foot on the floor. "Babs said I could come over here instead, said you guys don't have plans."

"Jay does," Duke said, and Kara wondered how long he'd been around for if he called Jason by a nickname. She didn’t do that. She didn’t know anyone outside the family other than Roy who did. "Well, by plans he means he's dragging Matt around the city and Matt's probably going to be shot at some point."

"Matt?"

"Younger brother." Everyone chorused, and Kara nodded, as if she understood, which she didn't, but oh well. It felt like every time she adjusted to one Bat, ten more would appear to throw her off-balance again.

"Otherwise, no plans." Duke finished, marking something else down. "Hence Carrie and Terry knocking the shit out of each other."

"Did you just swear?" Stephanie asked, kicking up into a handstand, and walking over towards him. She fell down right beside him, straight into a loosely cross-legged position, looking adorable, in Kara's opinion, her hands in her lap, like a little bear or something.

"Fuck off," Duke muttered, and Stephanie started to laugh. "I'm allowed to swear!"

Kara exchanged a look with Barbara or would have if Barbara hadn't straight-up vanished. Kara swallowed, looking around, but not seeing the red-haired girl. "Where's Barbara?"

Dick pointed across the cave, towards the garage, and Kara nodded, rising into the air and flying in that direction. She landed on the ground, and Barbara came out of the locker rooms, already in uniform.

"I thought you weren't Batgirl?"

"Call me Oracle," Barbara said, flashing a quick smile, and jabbing her thumb over her shoulder, towards the locker room. "Spare suit for you in there, get changed, we're going to knock some heads around."


	10. make a move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m on Tim’s side,” Stephanie decided, shoving an entire cupcake in her mouth. “Totally siblings. Bet Catwoman’s the mom.”

Gotham Academy, in general, did not get attacked all that often. Most Rouges went for the shiny targets, banks and skyscrapers and police stations, not the somewhat quaint school that was old enough and snobbish enough to force it’s students to wear uniforms in the twenty-first century.

But not always.

Lauren was a student at said school. Her parents owned a business that was big enough to buy their way into the best education for their daughter, but not enough to gain unwanted attention. Lauren enjoyed a nice life, with a few close friends, a present pair of fathers, and a baby brother. She had good grades and her record was clean.

Lauren was not a fan of the glass wall of the cafeteria shattering just as she was about to bite into her cupcake - it was a classmates birthday.

But she didn’t get to dictate said things. And Lauren, a Gotham native, had long ago stopped whining about attacks. She silently ducked under the table, along with her friends, one hand on her phone, ready to call the cops.

A vigilante skidded across the floor, coming to a stop maybe an arms length from Lauren’s foot. It was a girl, dressed in shades of purple, a hood over her head, and a cloak around her shoulders.

Lauren wasn’t a massive fan of heroes. But she knew who Spoiler was, just like everyone else in the cafeteria.

“Is that Spoiler?”

“No way!”

“She’s tiny!”

“Is she our age?”

“She’s adorable!”

Ew. Lauren made a face at Nicole, who shrugged, unashamed. She had her phone out, recording like the good wannabe journalist she was.

“Ow,” Spoiler moaned, rolling onto her stomach, and pushing herself to her feet, as a second vigilante swung in, and slid across the floor, stopping beside her. She had a mask on, like she was the Winter Soldier, but without the goggles, and he other vigilante, Robin, grasped her by the arm, pulling her up.

“You good?”

“Peachy,” she snarked in return, grasping her cloak by the edges and shaking it. Glass bits clattered to the floor, and Lauren winced. That had to have hurt. “You?”

“Didn’t get thrown through a window - look out!”

Robin tackled Spoiler to the floor, as a vine speared through the space that had once held the window. It stabbed into the ceiling, and both vigilantes were on their feet in a moment. Spoiler launched something at the vine. There was a flash, and purple foam spread across it, hissing a bubbling.

“Nice,” Robin said, and she gave him a fist tap without even looking. Lauren wondered if they were together.

Probably not. They seemed like friends. And also young. “She’s gonna be mad now.”

“I can’t find it in myself to care,” Spoiler informed Robin, and headed past him, breaking into a sprint. With a whoop, she flipped out through the hole she’d made when she’d crashed through the window. Robin huffed out a sigh, and ran after her, diving through the window.

Lauren scrambled to her feet, and stared out the window. Outside, in the courtyard, Nightwing, Spoiler, and Robin were running around, Poison Ivy in the middle of the space, vines thrashing around her.

“Awesome,” Nicole said, as Nightwing cartwheeled over one plant, and Spoiler threw something at the ones Robin was running down. More foam spread over the green, and Robin jumped off, knee raised. He nearly clipped Ivy’s jaw, but she lunged out of the way, and brought a vine up, whipping it at the guy. He took it to the back, flying across the courtyard, and Nightwing jumped, catching him before he hit the rooftop.

The taller vigilante let Robin down, and they separated, as Spoiler starting to throw punches.

She took a vine to the gut, flying up into the air, and flipped backwards, landing on the roofs peak, drawing a pair of metal sticks, and charging at Ivy, who threw a vine forwards.

Spoiler flipped up, forwards, and sideways, landing on the plant, and sliding down, like she was riding a skateboard. Another vine crossed the first, straight for her chest, and she flipped sideways, landing back on the first vine.

Robin had a staff out, and he almost caught Ivy in the back of the head. A tree sprouted instead, and he kicked backwards, rolling up to his feet. Nightwing released something in an underhand throw, and one vine went up in flames. Spoiler dove off her vine, landing beside Ivy and sweeping the feet, delivering a duel strike to the woman’s head as she fell.

All the vines went limp. Spoiler whooped, jumping in the air and fist pumping. “Spoiler one! Ivy zero!”

Within minutes, all three were gone, and Lauren was turning to her classmate - the birthday girl - and gushing to her about the battle. Stephanie nodded enthusiastically, hands waving through the air.

“That flip though!” she said, beaming. “Over that one vine! Amazing!”

“Do you think they’re dating?” Nicole wondered. “Spoiler and Robin.”

“Of course!” Matt insisted. Tim, Stephanie’s brother, made a weird face.

“No way.”

“Why not?”

“Wrong vibes.”

“Says the aromantic.”

“Hey, they give off friendship vibes!” Tim protested. “I know friendship vibes!”

“I’m on Tim’s side,” Stephanie decided, shoving an entire cupcake in her mouth. “Totally siblings. Bet Catwoman’s the mom.”

Tim made another weird face at that, and Nicole played the video she’d recorded, staring at it with giddy excitement. It was near-impossible to get candid footage of the Gotham vigilantes. Batman rarely even showed up for the public Justice League stuff. Spoiler had been a myth for a while, until clear photographs of her had hit the internet maybe six months after the first rumour. People had been shipping her and Robin since then, much to Tim’s disgust and Stephanie and Nicole’s amusement. Lauren was mostly indifferent; she preferred Wonder Woman.


	11. blood is thicker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dick?” Tim asked, poking Stephanie awake. She came to easily, blinking rapidly, and sitting up. Tim rose, turning to face his brothers, ready for the lecture he’d get. “I know you said to go to - Jason!”

It started with a bomb. Nothing good started with a bomb. (Conner was an expert in such things, after four years of running around with a group of teenage superheroes.)

Conner hadn’t even realized Robin had doubled back, noticing something the other two hadn’t, until Nightwing had made a choking noise when they were halfway across the street. “Robin!”

“He’s right -” Conner started to say, turning Nightwing around - he’d lost navigation privileges after walking into a wall - to the left, where the second Robin usually appeared, with a smirk or scowl planted on his face. “Oh no.”

Nightwing started to pull away form Conner, trying to get to the warehouse, and Conner narrowed in on it, looking through the walls to see Robin, stumbling towards the door Conner had used to get him and Nightwing out.

“Robin -” Nightwing started to say, his tone saying that he was addressing the comm, not Conner, but Robin’s scream didn’t need a comm to be heard.

“Get out now!”

Shit.

Conner threw himself over Nightwing, sound tearing through his eardrums. He pushed the smaller vigilante under him, covering him as best he could - it had been easier back when Nightwing had been tiny - and a bit of metal bounced off his back, burning through his shirt.

Conner counted to three before Nightwing was pushing him off, and scrambling towards Robin, managing to sprint in a near-straight line despite his earlier inability to do almost anything but walk into a wall. Conner went after him, crouching beside the limp form of Robin.

The boy had been thrown with the force of the bomb, the door bursting open as he’d gotten out, and slamming into his back. Without hesitation, Conner threw it off, reaching for Robin’s hands. They were pulled into his chest, cradling a tiny body that Conner only knew because he’d gone to school with the full-sized version for his entire life.

Conner gently lifted Karen, focusing on her. She seemed fine. Knocked out, but relatively fine. He could only wonder why she was so small.

Dick let out a sob, breaking Conner out of his confusion. The older hero was bent over Jason, cradling him to his chest because -

“Superboy to Cave,” Conner heard himself say from miles away. “Robin is dead.”

* * *

“Dick?” Tim asked, poking Stephanie awake. She came to easily, blinking rapidly, and sitting up. Tim rose, turning to face his brothers, ready for the lecture he’d get. “I know you said to go to - Jason!”

The name tore from his lips with a shriek, and he was crashing to a stop beside his brothers before he’d even registered the blood and ash and death. “Jason!”

Dick slumped to his knees, Jason’s body sliding from his arms. He reached up, grabbing Tim with an arm around his back and Strphanie by the sleeve, pulling the twins in close. He smelt like sweat and air and kevlar and all the smells that Tim fell asleep to after good patrols, but like blood and ash and tears and smoke, everything he passed out to in the med bay after bad nights.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Stephanie chanted, cheek pressed against Dick’s shoulder, and Tim tried to pull away, look at Jason, but Dick’s hand came up higher, grasping the back of Tim’s head, and pulling his younger brothers head into his chest. A silent warning not to look.

Tim wasn’t crying like Dick or in denial like Stephanie. He just felt numb. Light. Dull. Heavy. Wrong.

* * *

Stephanie was on his legs, which were all pins and needles. Dicks breaths were slow and heavy, Tim rising and falling with each one. There was a pit in Tim’s chest, like someone had taken a giant cookie-cutter to the space below his collarbone.

Stephanie was laid out on Tim’s thighs like a dog, her head resting on his stomach. Tim himself was pressed against Dick, every exhale ruffling his hair. A few blankets were tucked around them all, and Tom was sandwiched between his siblings, but he was freezing, and trembling.

“Dick?” Tim asked quietly, shifting to look up at his older brothers face. A small sigh escaped Dick, and the arm around Tim’s chest shifted. Dick’s eyes fluttered open.

“Mm?”

“Think I’m in shock.”

“Mm.” Dick agreed, nuzzling into Tim’s hair. “S’okay. ‘M ‘ere.”

Tim closed his eyes.


	12. insomnia and death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very few members of the Team go a week without nightmares. Virgil is one of the lucky ones; despite the Reach, despite the missions, he’s got away relatively clear. Nightmares and dreams have never really bothered him. There’s always been a disconnect there, even while he’s been asleep. Like he’s watching them happen to someone else.

Very few members of the Team go a week without nightmares. Virgil is one of the lucky ones; despite the Reach, despite the missions, he’s got away relatively clear. Nightmares and dreams have never really bothered him. There’s always been a disconnect there, even while he’s been asleep. Like he’s watching them happen to someone else.

Instead, he’s got insomnia. Has had insomnia, for years now. But the powers, the missions, the training, they’ve all kicked it into overdrive, and he gets even less sleep than he’s used to. He could probably give most of the Bats a run for their money.

It’s two in the morning, according to the Watchtowers time cycle, and he hasn’t fallen asleep yet. He keeps a hand on the wall as he makes his way to the kitchen, trying to be quiet, as some of his teammates have really good hearing and don’t like to be woken up.

He knows the space well enough that he can navigate it without turning on the main lights, using just the thin strips of white at the baseboards to make sure he doesn’t walk right into anything and opens the fridge. The light is bright and harsh, and he squints against it, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

“Late night snack?”

Virgil whirls, staring at Robin, who’s sitting at the island. has been doing so, in the dark for... hours, probably.

“Insomnia.”

“There are ways to fix that.”

“I know.”

Robin lets the conversation drop away. He’s not wearing his uniform, or his jacket or sunglasses. Instead, it’s a too-big Batman shirt that hangs loosely off one shoulder. Virgil hadn’t realized Robin was... tiny isn’t really right, but Robin’s small. Really small. The shirt just makes that glaringly obvious.

“You?” Vigil asks, and Robin sets his bare hands on the counter. He doesn’t ask Virgil to elaborate, understanding the single word perfectly.

“My brother. He’s got... issues.”

“Nightwing?”

Robin shakes his head. He looks like he was woken up, his hair wild, not combed back how it’s always been when Virgil sees him. “Different brother. He.. died.”

“Oh. Uh, I’m sorry.”

“He got better.”

Virgil's not sure what to say to that. Got better? Like, came back to life? He’s fairly sure that’s not normal, even for the Justice League.

“But... dying has effects.”

No shit.

Robin’s head is bowed, and he flexes his fingers, flipping his palms to the ceiling. He sighs. “I can’t help him.”

“Why not?”

Robin lifts his chin, a finger tracing a scar across the side of his throat. It runs from behind his ear down to the middle of his neck, raised, with little crosses that mean stitches.

“Every time he sees me now,” Robin’s voice wavers, “he screams to get away from him.”

Whoa. Robin's brother slit his throat? Virgil was warned about the Bats being crazy, but this is beyond insane.

“Maybe you should stay away then,” Virgil offers hesitantly, and Robin’s fists clench.

“I - he died, Virgil! And I thought he was dead, for years, and then I found him and he freaked out, and I want him back!”

Robin’s panicking. Words spewing uncontrollably, hysteria edging his tone. Virgil stumbles over, taking Robin’s hands in his own, trying to calm him down.

“Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, breathe, okay? Breathe.”

Robin pulls away. “I can control myself.”

Control myself. Like he’s a machine.

Mal warned him about Robin. What he can be like.

“I don’t think control is the issue.”

“I just want him to be okay. I don’t care about the guns or the killing or the watch list, I just want him to be okay!”

Guns? Killing? Watch list?

Virgil was there when Tigress briefed them on the new guy in Gotham. Red Hood. How he works, how he’s killing, that they need to stay away.

“Robin is your brother the R -”

“Yes,” Robin sobs, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes. “And I can’t help him!”

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

“Red Hood,” Virgil repeats, then aloud, “Holy shit.”

“He won’t let me go near him,” Robin whispers. “I saved his life today and when he woke up he wouldn’t look at me.”

“That’s why you’re here.”

“Yeah.”

“Whoa.”


	13. i'm standing still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Again, we don’t know,” Oracle, who was apparently the person in charge, insisted. “We were dealing with Two-Face, we don’t know anything other than that.”
> 
> “Other than,” Spoiler interjected helpfully, gesturing with her hands, miming and explosion. “Flash! Bang! Pow! Big headache, arrows pointed at our faces.”
> 
> Oracle sighed, in the way that Laurel used to when Sara and Thea and Oliver and Tommy were being idiots and pointed at Spoiler. “Not helping.”

Speedy wasn’t sure what to make of the group of young adults before her. There were seven of them, three girls and four boys, and not a single one of them agreed to tell any of them their real names. All they got were code names, code names that Overwatch couldn’t get a single hit off of.

“Again, we don’t know,” Oracle, who was apparently the person in charge, insisted. “We were dealing with Two-Face, we don’t know anything other than that.”

“Other than,” Spoiler interjected helpfully, gesturing with her hands, miming and explosion. “Flash! Bang! Pow! Bug headache, arrows pointed at our faces.”

Oracle sighed, in the way that Laurel used to when Sara and Thea and Oliver and TOmmy were being idiots, and pointed at Spoiler. “Not helping.”

“Batman’s not here,” Red Robin said briskly, and Thea’s gaze flitted over to him. His arm lowered, and both his hands disappeared under his cloak, the hood of the uniform casting his face in shadow, a domino mask over his eyes.

“Who’s Batman?” Arsenal asked, crossing his arms, and the young man, despite his face being in shadow, and masked, managed to convey the sense of _no_ _duh_. 

“Someone who doesn’t exist here.”

“He’s our mentor,” Nightwing offered. Red Hood snorted. “Father? Random crazy person, who teaches us how to punch people? Boss?”

“Person who fires us?” Spoiler snarked, and Orphan elbowed her, then seemed to consider it, and patted the purple-clad girl on the shoulder, as if in apology. “We all know it’s true!”

“Nobody denied it,” Red Robin said quietly, and Thea exchanged a glance with Roy, who shrugged. Spoiler waved a hand through the air like she was swatting a bug. Dressed entirely in purple, from the nose down, body armour covered every shred of skin, a Winter Soldier style mask covering her lower face, and a hood over her hair; all in all, she was kitted out pretty damn well.

Thea was most certainly not jealous. Not at all. 

(She was _so_ jealous. They were ten times cooler, their armour absolutely amazing, everything high-tech and way beyond _anything_ Thea could have found _anywhere_.)

“Gotham exists though,” Red Robin added as Spoiler’s hand vanished under her cloak, just like Red Robin’s had. They were dressed very similarly, although Red Robin was in red, grey and black, a pair of bandoleers across his chest, and a domino mask, instead of her face mask. The rest was styled practically the same for both of them. “So, that’s something.”

“Sorry, how do you know that?” Roy asked, crossing his arms. “Mind telling us?”

“I hacked the internet,” Red Robin said in a dull tone, and Thea blinked, reaching for her comm, but Felicity was already speaking.

_“I don’t know how he did it, what the heck? He doesn’t have a computer!”_

“So, options?” Red Hood demanded, his voice modulated through his helmet. He was dressed seemingly normally, with a leather jacket that had a red hoodie sewn to it, with a helmet around his face, covering everything.

“Kickass?” Orphan suggested, sounding a bit too hopeful. Nightwing clicked his tongue, almost disappointed, as he shook his head. Bright blue crossed his chest in a V shape, presumably running down his arms, ending in finger stripes. Presumably, because he had a windbreaker-esque jacket on over top of the uniform. “Gently?”

“We’re not doing that,” Oracle said. She wore purple, with a yellow bat across her chest, gloves yellow, just like her combat boots - they all either had combat boots or toe boots, Thea noted and wondered if the difference was important. Probably. A cape was clipped to Oracle’s shoulders, finishing the uniform. “B ain’t here people, we gotta work with the League.”

The youngest, Robin, scoffed at that, and Nightwing patted him on the head. From the way the kid had been acting, Thea half-expected that he’d bite Nightwing’s hand off, but nothing happened.

“Aw,” Spoiler rose up on her toes, rocking back and forth, heels to toes - she had the same toe boots that Nightwing, Red Robin, and Orphan had - her hands folded behind her back. “Too bad, honestly.”

“Can we get back to how did you hack without us noticing?”

“HUD through the mask,” Red Robin said with a quiet smile, his head dipping, in a sort of quiet apology. “Crossed with a bit of glove tech. Not hard to piggyback of your comms and all that.”

“He’s the hacker,” Oracle said offhandedly. “One of them, at least.”

“Okay, here’s the idea,” Thea said, sighing. She wanted to sit down - her legs hurt from standing in the same position for so long. “Masks off, give us your names, we’ll head back to base, and discuss.”

Looks were exchanged. Then Spoiler flipped her hood down and unclipped her face mask, which kept the same shape, even as she hid her hands in the folds of her cloak, presumably attaching the mask to a belt or something out of sight. All of them had belts on with little pouches, other than Red Hood. He had a pair of guns.

Spoiler was blonde, hair held back in a messy bun at the back of her head. Orphan went next, reaching up with gloved hands, and unhooking the fabric over her ears, letting it fall around her neck, into the folds of the shawl-like cloak that was wrapped around her neck. She had white bandages wrapped around her forearms, bits of yellow vaguely outlining a bat on her chest.

Nightwing pulled off his mask, tucking it behind him just like Spoiler had, and Robin silently did the same, hiding his somewhere behind him, hands hidden by his yellow-edged cloak, and dropping his hood. 

Oracle removed her cowl, letting it hang behind her like a hood, and Red Robin flicked his hood down with a single twitch of his wrists, domino vanishing like the rest of them. Red Hood removed his helmet, revealing a domino under it. He peeled that off, holding his helmet at his side.

It all happened in about four seconds, revealing people younger than Thea had been expecting. Robin, who she’d expected to be at least sixteen, was maybe thirteen. Nightwing, Oracle, and Red Hood were in their early to mid-twenties. 

“Oh,” she managed to say, and Red Hood scoffed.

“What? Got a problem?”

“No,” Thea said stiffly, turning around, and walking across the rooftop. "No problem.”

“Neat,” Spoiler said brightly, jogging to catch up with Thea. “I’m Stephanie, I’m the one who likes waffles.”

“You don’t have to introduce yourself like that, you know?” Red Robin called, and Stephanie turned around, jogging backwards.

“I know!”


	14. hot pink and neon green clocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Of all the people to go back in time, why me? I get sidetracked every five minutes.”

“Of all the people to go back in time, why me? I get sidetracked every five minutes.”

Bruce didn’t move, but Diana knew he was watching the girl as she walked around the Watchtower’s observatory, fiddling with different things, moving on every few seconds to find something new. “Like, seriously, am I even alive yet? Hey, how many alien invasions have happened yet? Did Han Solo - that’s a spoiler alert, holy fuck I’m St - blondie, now.”

Diana spared a glance at Clark, who looked very much like he was about to bang his head into the wall. She couldn’t exactly blame him; a seemingly random human girl had appeared during a League meeting, free-falling from the ceiling. She’d landed just fine on the table, took a look around, and swore.

It had taken about twenty minutes to pin her down. She hadn’t done much damage in that time, mostly just darted around the League and made them look like idiots, but she’d eventually been body slammed against the wall by Barry. It had taken another twenty minutes after that to get a single answer out of her. In that time, she’d picked the locks of the first handcuffs they’d put on her, then the second ones, somehow slid the third ones off, and then with the fourth ones, she’d managed to set off a tiny explosive charge that broke the chain that held them together.

Finally, they’d found out that girl went by Neon. At least, that’s the name she told them, and Diana wasn’t quite inclined to believe her, but the Lasso hadn’t argued and since she did have traces of energy that would theoretically be linked to time travel, Diana wasn’t a fan of pressing more and breaking all of existence.

And now they were stuck here, watching her, because apparently somebody would pick her up eventually. Neon was not very bothered by her situation, waving it away with the explanation of _just wait a few years, then you’ll be wishing this was the crazy stuff_. But nearly two hours after it had happened, she was still here.

And she wasn’t happy about that. Or, if she was, she was hiding it behind her inability to sit still.

Neon had spent the first quarter-hour sitting with her legs crossed, humming to herself, and bopping her head along to songs only she could hear. Then, she’d done acrobatics and shadowboxing for an hour. Since that had ended, she’d been walking around randomly. And talking.

Neon kept cutting herself off, snatching of names and things slipping through as she spoke to the air, as the League members weren’t speaking to her. She ran a black and pink gloved hand through her hair, golden-red and cut short, bent backwards into a handstand and mimicked different voices.

“The second book in the Magnus Chase series starts with Magnus at a coffee shop in Boston -”

Dear gods. Neon was right; she was easily distracted. She was doing snow angels on the floor now, reciting the plot of some book in detail. Some lines she actually knew, but mostly she didn’t seem to remember as clearly. Diana sighed, and turned to the clock, noting the time.

“Three hours is when you start to worry,” Neon called, propping herself up on her elbows. She certainly didn’t act like Batman. If this was what his future held, Diana could only be glad. It would be good for him to get some cheer into that head of his. “That’s when you know that things may be off the rails back home. Eventually, though, you do get home! Or like, everything goes -”

She sat up straight and cupped her hands together, palms facing each other, fingers arched and the tips almost touching, making a sort of ball shape. Complete with sound effects, she made it blow up and then fell backwards onto the ground, arms spread wide. Demonstration apparently over, Neon rocked her head back and forth and clicked her tongue with each one, like a clock.

That wasn’t reassuring. Diana crossed her arms, pointedly not looking away from Neon, who, without precedent, sat bolt upright. She uncrossed her arms, tensing, ready to step forwards, but Neon just grinned.

“Oh, they’re here.”

Blink.

Neon was gone. Diana sighed, relaxing her shoulders, and turned to Bruce, who was already typing at the computer, bringing up signatures and readings. He nodded, then turned, and walked away.

Hopefully, Neon was in the near future. Diana wasn’t sure how much brooding and glum Bruce she could take before she went insane.


	15. tilted rooftops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What?” Kate asked, voice crackling slightly over the radio. Stephanie shifted slightly, wiggling her toes, as her foot was starting to fall asleep. She was glad that she had toe boots on, instead of combat boots; way better grip.
> 
> “I hate that this is what we decide to spend our time on. I’d rather be asleep than wandering around abandoned buildings at three in the morning.”

Stephanie crouched upon the peak of the warehouse. Her ankles hurt from the awkward angle her feet gripped the metal at, feet pointing away from each other and down slightly. It was only thanks to her hands gripping the peak as well, that she hadn’t just found a different position.

Rain began to fall, and she scowled, behind her face mask, reaching up with one hand, and pulling her hood further down over her head, and activating her comm. “Hey, you know what?”

_“What?”_ Kate asked, voice crackling slightly over the radio. Stephanie shifted slightly, wiggling her toes, as her foot was starting to fall asleep. She was glad that she had toe boots on, instead of combat boots; way better grip.

“I hate that this is what we decide to spend our time on. I’d rather be asleep than wandering around abandoned buildings at three in the morning.”

_“You’re not the one in the warehouse, Spoiler.”_

Stephanie made a grumbling noise and shook one hand out. Her cloak shifted around her, and the rain clung to the fabric, repelled like it was covered in wax or something, and trickling down. “Yeah, I’m the one freezing my arse off in the rain.”

_“Hm,”_ was all Kate said, and Stephanie reached a hand into her cloak, withdrawing a small, circular object. With a flick of her wrist, it expanded, into a sort of telescope, and she held it up to her eye, scanning the area again. She felt like a gargoyle, at the edge of the rooftop, hunched over and all-knowing.

Well, maybe not all-knowing. But she had a lot of stuff rattling around in her memory banks. More than most people, that much was for sure.

Gunfire cracked through the air. Stephanie tilted her head to the side, and leaned forwards, fingers curling over the edge of the roof. She kicked forwards, just a bit, and flipped over the edge, hanging on by her fingertips, controlling every aspect of her body as she lowered her legs down to dangle, and twisted around so that she could look through the window near the roof's peak.

Flashes of light illuminated the dark space, the noise of battle mixing with the rain, and a clap of thunder that rang out.

“Guess it’s not abandoned, huh?” she said, swinging her legs back and forth to build up speed, and releasing on the forwards' swing. Stephanie crashed through the window, and landed on a beam, sprinting across it.

She skidded to a stop above the battle, and crouched down, reaching behind her, fingers latching around one of the larger explosives she kept hidden under her cloak. It was a white orb, a bit like a grenade, about the size of a baseball, maybe a bit smaller.

“Heads up,” she warned, and below her, a flash of red flipped over one of the gunners, grabbing onto a shipping container that was nearby, and rolling over it, to the other side. Stephanie pulled the pin, and dropped the bomb, tossing the pin over her shoulder because she wanted to.

(Part of being a member of the Clan was being dramatic, and Stephanie embodied that, even when nobody could see her. It was fun.)

It landed with a thumping clang, and Stephanie covered her eyes with an arm, closing them. She still saw the flash through her eyelids but wasn’t blinded by it.

Jumping off the beam, she landed on one of the other shipping containers and did a side flip off of it, because she’d spent too much time with Dick lately. Landing on one of the gunner’s shoulders, Stephanie kicked off, sending him flying away from her, and she landed a punch to another’s face.

Kate joined her, and they fought back to back, hands and feet and elbows and knees against guns, disarming and dodging the attacks.

It was wrapped up in under five minutes, and Stephanie knelt on the ground, even her breaths out. She wasn’t tired, but the adrenaline that let her move at her peak capacity was ebbing, and that always left a little bit of something behind.

“So fun,” she said, offering Kate a high-five, rising up to her full height. The older woman gave her a look as she walked past, and Stephanie sighed. Her hand dropped to her side and withdrew zip ties. “Right, you’re a bat with 'man' in your name, and therefore no fun.”

Kate snorted. “Just do your job.”

“I am! I’m the one that’s positive, remember?”


	16. i am bold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They find out. Because of course. Tim got sloppy. Tim fucked up real good because he got used to the casual way everyone moves around the mansion, wounds visible, scars showing, bruises uncovered.

They find out. Because of course. Tim got sloppy. Tim fucked up real good because he got used to the casual way everyone moves around the mansion, wounds visible, scars showing, bruises uncovered.

And he’s sleep-deprived and not thinking straight, and he doesn’t lock his door when he goes to change into clothes, out of his pyjamas, and they notice.

And then, of course, his parents don’t know about that, and when his father sees the first scar, it’s just the first crack in the glass, and then it shatters. It’s a whirlwind of ideas, from the staff abusing him, to self-harm, to just full-blown panic. By then, Tim had already hit his panic button, and Stephanie was already climbing through his bedroom window.

“This is fantastic,” is what she says, right off the bat, with no small amount of sarcasm, slipping off the sill, and sliding the window shut. She’s in a pair of jeans, running shoes that are specially made for them, and almost as good as her uniform shoes, and a lilac tank top, her bra showing below it. “Timbit, you are _great_ at secrets, you know that, right?”

Tim just throws his hands into the air and collapses back onto his bed. Stephanie’s arrival has shut his parents up, thank the stars, since they’ve both been demanding answers, speaking over each other and not giving him a chance to speak.

Stephanie bounces down beside him, and swings her upper half over the edge of the bed, fishing around for something, and comes back with a hoodie, which Tim gratefully pulls on. He’s not ashamed of his scars - he’s actually somewhat fascinated, and isn’t afraid to admit that he’s sat in front of a mirror for hours some nights, tracing them, remembering each story - but his parent's constant staring is making him very uncomfortable.

He’s been wearing baggy clothing around them, to hide everything, from the muscle that comes with being a vigilante, to the scars, to the bruising, and just to hide in general. Back at the mansion, he tends to steal Dick’s shirts or Jason’s shirts - oh god, _Jason_ , he remembers the pain of the loss and it hurts again, all fresh because Red Hood brought it up and it hurts - but here, he has to stay covered.

“Shut up, Steph,” he mutters, resting his head on her shoulder, and she’s more than willing to let him do it. He can sense her glaring at his parents - genetic donors, Stephanie calls her parents, and isn’t that accurate for half their family - and he doesn’t even care anymore. Being here is more an act than anything else of late. “’M great at secrets.”

“Not outside of our family, you aren’t,” she says, and oh, that. That makes something rise up in him, something like love and pride and joy. She’s including him in the Clan, excluding his genetic donors - he’s stealing that line from her - and it feels so - so - so _something_. He’s not sure what.

He doesn’t dignify her with an answer, making a little grumbling noise instead, and she rests her head on his, so they’re both supporting and leaning on each other. Jack Drake is the first to speak after that.

“What the hell?!” he demands, and the twins - as Jason nicknamed them when they were younger and he was still alive - press into each other more. Tim seeks out Stephanie’s hand, and their fingers lace together, feeling each other’s pulses through their thumbs.

“It’s called we’re Robins,” Stephanie puts forth bluntly. “And we take no criticism.”

Predictably, it blows up from there. Jack blows up. Janet blows up. There’s a lot of yelling, and Stephanie threatens to call Dick at some point. That results in them having to explain Dick’s part in everything, which results in more yelling.

And then their comms go off, and Stephanie groans, facepalming. “Why does Red Hood have to show up now - actually no, great timing, we’ll finish this conversation later!”

She grabs Tim’s hood and drags him out of the window. Jack and Janet rush to it to try and spot their son, but nobody’s there, because well, Robins. They’re not besties with the shadows, but they’re certainly good friends.


	17. see you every time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Robins rise, they fall, they switch, they fly, but they always return to their partner's side.

The first Robin was small. He was quick, he laughed, he flipped, he darted through the air, he was acrobatic and fluid and swift.

The second Robin was rough and blunt, and everything was done with brute force. He’d take a hit, he’d break a nose, he fought dirty.

The third Robin was clever. He manipulated people, arranged them like he was playing chess. He was like the first, avoiding hits, but wasn’t so quick.

The fourth Robin, she was just crazy. She laughed and she fought hard and swift, with energy and a cocky grin on her face.

The fifth Robin was tiny, and angry, and screamed and shouted, and was painful and was hurting and had a sword that was terrifying.

The sixth Robin was only Robin for a week, taking over when the other’s couldn’t. She spun through the air and moved like a dancer.

The seventh Robin was calm, but fierce, smart and insane all in one, the best qualities wrapped up and thrown to the wolves.

And the eighth Robin, she was fierce. She was silent, only Robin for a single night, but she was terrifying, grinning like a madwoman.

The ninth Robin had a shock of red hair, and she loved being Robin, probably more than anyone since the fourth Robin, and she was just as loud.

And then Robin was gone. They’d been there, they’d spread their wings, they’d flown, and they’d become something more. Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Spoiler, Shadow, Oracle, Signal, Orphan, and Batgirl.

They flew, and they soared and they dove and they swooped and they fell, wings clipped, but Robin always rose, years later. 

The tenth Robin was so much like the first. He cackled, and he came from the shadows, brightly coloured as he darted around beside the shadows of his Batman. He was so much like the rest, acrobatic and quiet and loud and energetic and smart and fierce and elegant. He was Robin. The person who held Batman in the light, who ensured that he rose about the darkness, and stayed above it.


	18. harms way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My name is Jason. I can’t remember. I know I’m dead.

_My name is Jason Todd. I am fifteen years old. I am the second Robin. My older brother is Dick Grayson. My younger brother is Tim Drake. My sister is Stephanie Brown. I stole tires off the Batmobile. I was on Young Justice. I died - how did I die?_

* * *

_My name is Jason Todd. I am fifteen years old. I’m the second Robin. My older brother is Dick Grayson. My younger brother is Tim Drake. My sister is Stephanie. I’m part of Young Justice. I died - did I die?_

* * *

_My name is Jason Todd. I am fifteen years old. I am Robin. My brothers are Dick and Tim. My sister is Stephanie. I’m... on Young Justice? Was I dead?_

* * *

_My name is Jason Todd. I am... I don’t know. I was someone important. My sister is Stephanie, my brothers are Tim and Dick. I’m dead, right?_

* * *

_My name is Jason Todd. My siblings are Stephanie, Dick, and Tim. I’m pretty sure I’m dead._

* * *

_My name is Jason Todd. My - I don’t know who they are. What are their names? Give them back, who took them!?_

* * *

_I think I was dead._

* * *

_My name is Jason. I’m forgetting someone. I was dead._

* * *

_My name is Jason. I can’t remember. I know I’m dead._

* * *

_My name is - it starts with a Jay. What’s a Jay? Am I a Jay? Why can’t I remember? Where are my - where’s my - who are they?! Why can’t I remember them!? Give them back!_

* * *

_I’m dead._

* * *

_I’m dead._

* * *

_I’m dead._

* * *

_I’m forgetting something. Important. What?_

* * *

_I’m dead._

* * *

_I’m dead._

* * *

_I’m dead._

* * *

It was fighting. Its sword swung and hit it’s sticks, making its hand hurt, but it didn’t stop, running at it as it flipped away like - like - like -

It’s stick slammed into its hand, and It dropped its sword, but it didn’t know, It’s head hurting, It’s head hurting and shaking with its word. Its name.

“Gray,” it rasped, and it stopped moving, looking at it, staying still. “Son?"

It moved forwards, grabbing it and slamming it into the ground, making it hurt more, but it was wrong. It was hurting, hurting in its chest. It reached up, but it grabbed it’s hand and pushed it down. Its eyes hurt.

“Grayson,” it repeated, and grayson flinched. “Grayson?”

“Jay.” grayson whispered, and it blinked. Then blinked again. Its head hurt. “Jason?”

_My name is Jason Todd._

“Jason,” it repeated, and grayson reached for its face, taking off its not-face, dropping it away. “Jason?”

“Jason,” Grayson breathed, and then it was held by Grayson’s arm, tight. But not hurting. Hurting in its chest, in Jason’s chest. And that was all it took for everything - or at least a large chunk of everything - to slam back into Jason’s head, like an avalanche. And the avalanche hurt. Jason whimpered, pressing his forehead into Dick’s shoulder, and Dick’s grip tightened.

* * *

_“She hit me in the face with a brick!” Tim protested, and Jason patted the younger boy’s shoulder, trying not to smile too big._

* * *

_“These waffles are a-_ mazing _,” Stephanie said through a mouthful, pointing at Jason with the remainder of her quarter. “You’re doing this every day.”_

* * *

_“I can’t be Robin anymore,” Dick whispered, resting his forehead on the crown of Jason’s head. “But_ you _can.”_

* * *

“Dick,” Jason breathed, and Dick let out a choking sob, clinging to him. “Dick, I dug out. I dug out, Dick, I dug out!”

* * *

Jason didn’t remember much after that. He had a faint impression of Ra’s waving them away, muttering about _damn memories_ and _get out of my sight_ and Dick dragging him towards the bioship. He remembered Conner looking at him weirdly while he slumped against Dick, who was still wrapped around him, holding him close. 

He remembered the flight, more or less. Remembered the one in green glaring at them the entire time, remembered Dick whispering in his ear, apologizing and telling stories and generally sounding like he was about to cry.

He settled back into his body properly when they arrived in a cave, and Dick was leading him towards medical tables. He spotted a blonde girl who looked so much like Stephanie it hurt, and someone who had hair like Tim’s, and a girl in a wheelchair, but nothing more before he was being sat on a bed and Dick was ordering the two kids around.

“That’s Jason, right?” the blonde asked, and Jason blinked at her, confused. She was in purple. Stephanie always said she’d wear purple when she kicked ass.

“M’gann confirmed it on the way,” Dick answered, thumbs running over Jason’s skin, under his eyes, wiping superficial tears away. “It’s Jason. He - he said he dug out.”

“Of his coffin?” the boy asked, and Jason let out a whine, pitching his head forwards into Dick’s chest, and arms wrapped around him, rocking him back and forth. 

“Tim, get me an IV,” Dick said, and so it was Tim. “Stephanie, change of clothes. Get mine, got it?”

Clothes are pressed into his hands. Jason is still mostly in his head, sorting out his memories, trying to piece the fragments together, remembering.

* * *

_“I am keeping this brick,” Stephanie decided, holding it up for Jason and Tim and Dick and Barbara to see. “As a reminder that breaking noses seems to end well for me.”_

_“Please no,” Tim begged, falling against Jason’s chest, and hiding his face in the older kids' shirt. “Please.”_

_“I’m going to get a trophy case for it and everything,” Stephanie continued, far too gleefully, and Jason was glad that Tim couldn’t see how wide his own grin was; he’d be accused of betrayal._

* * *

He was wearing sweatpants when he really came back to himself, and a grey shirt, an IV in his arm. He blinked a few times, looking around, and trying to figure out what was holding his arms down.

It turned out to be the twins, as they called Stephanie and Tim. Stephanie was curled up on his left, hugging his arm to her chest, wearing a baseball tee that had a tear in the upper back, that showed her shoulder blades, and a pair of black shorts, her feet bare. He knew that shirt. He’d bought it for her when they went to a hockey game four months after she joined their family. It was like an over-sized dress on her back then, but he’d said she’d grow into it, and she’d always bought over-sized clothing after that, a silent promise to herself that she’d live to grow into them.

It fit her, and Jason tried not to cry because he’d missed her growing into it. He didn’t, swallowing hard, and turning to look at his right, where Tim was pressed up against him, in a too-big Superman shirt that was Conner’s at some point, and lose shorts. Jason remembers how Tim would steal his shirts to wear at night, his and Dick’s and sometimes Stephanie’s. It was some kind of way of making himself feel safe, Jason remembered, and he felt like crying again.

In the bed beside his, Dick was slumped over on his side, one arm slung over a small girl of Asian descent, who was breathing quietly, little whistles filling the air when she exhaled. A sister. A _new_ , sister.

And Barbara. In a wheelchair. Between the two beds, the back of the chair angled backwards, her eyes shut and a blanket over her, tucked in tight, hiding her legs.

Tears pricked. He’d missed Stephanie and Tim growing up, he’d left Dick to deal with their grief, and he’d missed a sister. And Barbara had gotten hurt, and he hadn’t stopped it. Tears slipped down his cheeks, and Jason closed his eyes, sinking back into the bed.


	19. looking in

Mal can’t make heads or tails of the girl, not really. She’s Nightwing and Robin’s sister, and he doesn’t doubt it, even before she lays him on his ass in under thirty seconds.

She’s white-passing like the two guys are - Robin corrected them all on that the first time it came up, and he’s presuming that she’s also white-passing until he’s told otherwise - but unlike them, she’s blonde and bubbly.

(Megan admits that Spoiler reminds her of when Nightwing was Robin, and that is a terrifying thought.)

Spoiler’s not the hacker her brothers are, but she’s no slouch either. She’s not the acrobat Nightwing is - nor is Robin - but she’s talented with her weapon of choice, and can out-flip the rest of the team any day.

Spoiler says she and Robin are twins when Nightwing first introduces her. Nightwing starts to say no, you’re really not, but she cuts him off with a hand wave and a Details, young padawan. Mal realized it’s some kind of inside joke when Robin mutters he’s your older brother, under his breath, and Nightwing sighs.

She disappears as well as the rest of the Bats and tends to pop up at the exact right place and time to perform jump scares and give her new teammate's heart attacks that vary in severity from skipped-a-beat to stumble-back-scream-and-fall-on-ass.

Unlike the rest, she doesn’t even try and hide her laughter when they turn around, see her, and scream. Mal’s not sure if that’s worse.

He can handle glaring and brooding. He can handle Nightwing and he can handle Robin. Batgirl needs no handling; she’s emotionally stable and a great deal saner than the other four. (Mal hopes. That or she’s a better actor than them.)

He’s not sure how to handle Spoiler, so he mostly avoids her without making it glaringly obvious and lets Robin deal with his ‘twin’ instead. It works out fairly well, in his opinion.

Notes:  
I take requests, asks and prompts on my Tumblr!

This story is free to read on AO3, and I have never given permission to anyone to post it anywhere else. If you have paid to read this story, then you have been scammed. If so, please inform me of what app or website made you pay, and other relevant details so that I might stop that from happening.


	20. sunken rocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie whirled, eyes narrowing in on Tim, as he lifted a finger to his lips, signalling for silence.

Stephanie whirled, eyes narrowing in on Tim, as he lifted a finger to his lips, signalling for silence. She obeyed, watching Karen hide inside his jacket, and fought the urge to crash into her twin, and not let go.

As it were, he moved to stand beside her, and she did the same, pressing their hands together. In true Bat Kid fashion, he slipped her a fully stocked belt without anybody, civilian or otherwise, noticing. If Artemis-Tigress did, she didn’t mention it to anyone, and Steph hid the belt under her jacket, letting herself be dragged away, and shoved into a pod.

“Okay, Timmers,” she whispered, as the pod sealed around her. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Fully stocked. One of her civilian belts, meaning it wasn’t fit to be used as Spoiler except in emergencies, and fit neatly in her jacket pocket, folded up into a disk about the size and width of a hockey puck.

From her poking at it, she figured that it was just a standard belt. She’d stocked her’s dozens of times, just like Tim had, and they both knew what the other preferred. She’d have a fair amount of explosives, some smoke-bombs, few flash-grenades, maybe a taser or two.

What Stephanie was really interested in was the pair of thin cylinders that Barbara had slipped her on the way by. Collapsible escrima sticks. Their weight was different from the ones that Stephanie worked with, which meant she’d have to adjust. But she was Spoiler. She was Batman’s daughter, Batwoman’s niece, and her sibling sister. She was herself, and that was all that she needed.

Stephanie met Barbara’s eyes as they were loaded onto the ship and held up her hands, making a few quick signs, each one sharp, her nerves almost getting the better of her. “Breaking out?”

Barbara responded with a single nod, and Stephanie grinned in return because she was so ready for this to start. She loved breakouts, they were just... amazing.

It didn’t take long for them to dock underwater somewhere - she knew it was underwater because Artemis-Tigress had that slightly off expression that she had when they were underwater that came with almost drowning three missions in a row in the same month.

They were taken out, and Stephanie kept an eye on Barbara, who was clearly using the mind link. She rapped her knuckles on the pod's red glass shell, gaining Tim’s attention, and nodded her head towards Kaldur. Tim nodded, relaying the message for her.

Then...

“Spoiler?”

“I’ve always wanted to have teenagers in my head,” Stephanie replied, suppressing her grin. “Dream come true.”

“Uh, who’s Spoiler?” Cassie asked - Tim’s mental twitch told her that she’d been correct. “Why’s he in our heads?”

“Anyways,” Stephanie snapped back to business mode. “We’re in some kind of lab. Four teenagers. And everyone we came with. Want us to bust out, or should we wait? I don’t see Blue, or Impulse or Gar.”

“I have Beast Boy and Impulse,” M’gann relayed. “Knocked out, but alive.”

“Make your move,” Dick ordered, a threat of warmth worming its way into Stephanie’s chest. “Rescue op, you understand?”

“Got it,” Stephanie confirmed. She shed her jacket, as it would just get in her way and didn’t provide any protection - she’d rather move freely - and pulled up her scarf, knotting it in the back, covering her lower face and tucking her hair in, out of her way. With that done, she looped her belt across her chest, set the disk she’d pulled out on the side of the pod, and let it do its job.

She stepped out, grinning at her siblings, and drawing a few more throwing disks, moving backwards to get the right angle on the other pods. She released them all in two motions, in time with Barbara. The pods opened, letting out the rest of the teenagers, and Stephanie smirked behind her scarf.

“Let's go!” she whooped, heading towards the door, which Tim was already hacking. It opened before she got there, and she gave him a high-five on the way past, drawing both escrima sticks and drop-kicking the Reach soldier guarding the doorway.

Barbara took out the second one, and Stephanie spun, releasing a throwing star. It connected with another soldier’s chest, and exploded, sending them backwards. She winced, but she knew the rules. This was war, and no-killing didn’t apply in war.

Stephanie shoved guilt away, and charged at the next soldier, doing a round-off into their chest, sending them into the wall. She spun around low, sweeping the leg and crashing both escrima sticks down on their head. Stowing them for a moment, she picked up the weird blaster staff and tried that out.

“Nice,” she whispered, grinning to herself because damn, this thing was cool. It was an energy gun and a staff all in one, and she used it as such, helping her siblings and Karen clear a path for the teenagers, who seemed to take their rescue in stride. One kid kicked a soldier in the groin, and Stephanie had to give her kudos.

“Great job!” she shouted, and the girl gave her a look, questioning Stephanie in Japanese. “Uh, kyūen! Forō suru!”

The girl grinned and gave her a thumbs up. “Totta!”

They make it to the docking bay, without too much trouble. Stephanie’s having fun, she can’t deny it. After the past few weeks, of non-stop Gotham protecting, filling in as Batgirl while Barbara played Batwoman so that Kate could do Batman - shocking, cross-dressing as Batman was really easy - so that people think that all the bats are still in Gotham, of doing Spoiler and Robin and Batgirl, all at the same time, sometimes in the same night, she’s dead on her feet. She hasn’t smiled genuinely in ages.

It feels so good to kick some ass and not have to worry about the no-kill rule for once. Usually, she loved it, still loves that rule, but all the same. Still irritating when you’re exhausted and are strong enough to murder with a misplaced hit.

(She can’t wait to hug Dick. Because she needs him right now, but that can wait until she’s kicked some more ass._

And she sees Wonder Girl, waving them in. See’s her brother. Dick’s expression shifts, barely enough for anyone but their family to pick up on, but she’s family, and she sees. it. He’s relieved, and tense and so, so worried.

She grins at him, twisting around and flipping and letting a projectile fly, taking out a group of soldiers, and landing in a crouch, doing a backwards walkover with a twist in it, so she ends facing him.

He grins, brighter, and she flicks a salute at him, but it’s not just a salute. She knows ASL, it’s part of basic training. It’s a hello.

He nods, and she turns back around, so she can see the teenagers. “Get in! Now! Fune ni nore!”

The Japanese girl has a Native American boy’s wrist in her hand, and she rushes past, shouting a quick thank out in her native tongue before the two of them are gone, along with a majority of the kids. And then Stephanie’s gaze falls on the guy who’s in the doorway she just entered through.

“Holy shit on a crow,” she breathed, not sure where the phrase came from, but citing Jason as the most likely source, “that is not good.”

“Agreed,” the thing growl-purred, it’s voice rumbling. Stephanie could not say she’d ever heard anything like it before, but she could say she’d seen something like it before, in Blue Beetle’s armour. 

Except... like, built like the Rock. And black, not blue. Otherwise, twinsies.

Stephanie drew a pair of disks into her palms, hiding them from view, and took up a defensive position, as Wonder Girl, the idiot, told him they’d go easy on him. Stephanie knew that not everybody understood how to judge who could kick your ass like the Bats could, but god, seriously?

And...

“You? Go easy? On me?”

“Oh shit,” Stephanie whispered, eyes flickering over to look at Barbara, otherwise not moving. Her shoulders were all tense, and that did not help her nerves at all. “Shit, shit, shit, fucking shit.”

Okay, he just sent Superboy flying. Great.

And right, Shimmer was here too, Stephanie decided to kick her ass instead of Mr. Confident because she knew video game logic, which kicked the ass of the squishier targets, and then take out the boss.

(Wait, was she one of the squishy people?)

Stephanie just had to get to Shimmer, and then she’d be home free to kick that girl's ass. God, she looked like she was from a gang - she kind of was, Cobra and all - and she also looked like maybe she’d done drugs at some point, and liked heavy metal.

Stephanie didn’t like heavy metal.

She kicked off some weird computer-like control panel, and flipped over one hand, in a very extra, Dick-like move. She was pretty sure he’d taught her it. In any case, she flung one throwing disk at the Black Beetle - Stephanie didn’t have a better name, so yeah, Wonder Girl won that one, god that girl was actually really cute FOCUS STEPHANIE - landed in a crouch on the top of the panel and flung the second, flipping backwards and landing beside Shimmer.

Halfway through the flip, she drew her escrima sticks out - she’d lost the blaster staff somewhere, that was a shame but she was better with the sticks anyways - and finished the move by trying to sweep Shimmer’s leg.

The cult member danced away, avoiding it, and Stephanie flew at her, sticks flashing through the air. “C’mon! Let’s go!”

Shimmer was pretty good, Stephanie had to admit. She was also older than her, she knew, since Shimmer had been maybe sixteen when Dick had fist encounter her on Santa Prisca, making her about twenty now, and Stephanie was just fourteen. At least she didn’t look younger, like Tim was - he was cursed with youth, it was hilarious - and she was trained by the Bats.

Shimmer could kiss Stephanie’s ass.

(Not literally, because one, ew, two, evil person, and three... Wonder Girl was way cuter, okay?)

It took a few minutes before someone checked in. Stephanie had resorted to acrobatics to avoid Shimmer’s weirdly glowing hands, which were about ankle height on Stephanie’s list of problems.

“We’ve got another Beetle!” she shouted through her mind, flipping backwards and onto the control panel, throwing herself back to avoid the follow-up kick. “Black, and like, a mountain, kicking out collective asses! Robin’s out, Batgirl’s in, me, Wonder Girl, and Shimmer and one maybe-traumatized -” she grunted, executing a rather difficult backwards layout flip that had a twist in it away from Shimmer, “- teenager, get in here!”

“And M’gann’s down,” she added on, aloud, once it became clear that the Beetle had done something to the door. With a snarl, she kicked her own legs out from under her, hips dropping to the ground, hands hitting the floor at her side, supporting her, and her feet kicked up, catching Shimmer around the knees. She lunged forwards, delivering a blow to the girl's head, knocking her out.

“Get in here,” she whispered, crouching on the ground, sorting through her pouches. She’d transferred portions of the items within into her sleeves and pockets, but there was still a fair amount in the actual belt. “Big brother, get in here.”

She withdrew four explosives, two in each hand. Wonder Girl was distracting the Beetle via an ass-kicking, leaving Stephanie to work on her own. Barbara was out and when the hell had that happened, so not good, oh god, this sucked, and Stephanie rose to her feet, inhaling, and exhaling.

I got this.

She let out a yell, throwing all four weapons forwards. They lodged in Black’s armour and went off. Stephanie didn’t give the guy a chance to act, setting off a tazer and ditching it on the floor before he could do something, cartwheeling across the room, and avoiding the giant staples he sent at her, throwing another pair of blades.

No planning. Just reacting, acting, training, inhale, exhale, throw, twist, flip, run, twist, attack, dodge, act, act, act, avoid, avoid, avoid.

Plasma flew past her ear, and she threw herself to the floor, sending a star flying at him, hitting him in the forehead. She kicked up and over to her feet, and changed tactics, charging right at him.

She jumped, kicking off his knee, ready for it to hurt, and spun through the air, foot almost slamming into his face. He blocked it half-halfheartedly, and Stephanie dropped to the floor, escrima drew, and throwing herself at his face, both of them acting as spears, but they were batted away, and she screamed. He kicked her across the room, flying towards the bioship door.

She slammed into it, narrowly protecting her neck, and dropped to the ground. Chances were, she could get up. Hold her own against Black? No way.

Stephanie played dead. And blacked out.

She came to Dick manhandling her into the bioship, setting her down beside a mostly conscious Tim, who was aware enough to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her in close.

She grumbled quietly, and rested her head on his shoulder, feeling his head resting down on her own. “’kay?”

“Mm,” he confirmed, and she curled into him a bit more, him doing the same. She was ready to go home, but the mission wasn’t over yet, proven by the water sloshing around their ankles.

Stephanie pulled herself to her feet, leaning on Tim as much as he was leaning on her, and stumbled towards the front, where Dick was bound to be. He was, and Stephanie mildly noted that Barbara told him to seal the hull. Water began to drain out, and Stephanie crumbled to her knees at the pilot's platform, Tim coming down with her.

“Spoiler?” Dick asked, meaning mission-mode. Stephanie opened her eyes, lifting her chin up so she could look at him.

“S’okay,” she promised, nodding dully. Ow, she must have been thrown harder than she’d thought. “We goin’?”

“Yes.”

Someone took over the controls for Dick at some point, maybe Superboy, god, Stephanie didn’t know, and he knelt beside her and Tim, pulling them up against him, voice low as he spoke.

“You did good.”

“Mm,” Stephanie agreed, feeling a bit drunk. Although she’d never been drunk. “Concussion, m’ybe. Hey, uh, uh,” she pawed at Tim’s shoulder weakly.

“Robin,” the oldest brother supplied.

“Robin!” she agreed happily, coming back to herself a bit. “Yeah. Girl back there... needs a translator. She speaks Japanese, doesn’t know what’s going on like rest of us, s’meone t’lk to her. ‘Kay?”

“I got it,” Barbara promised, patting Stephanie’s knee, and rising up, heading towards the back. “Stay here.”

“Not going anywhere!” Stephanie agreed and wrapped both arms around her twin. Dick huffed out a fond sigh, leaning his back against the bioship walls, letting both his siblings use him as a pillow. “‘ey, are we underwater?”

“You defiantly have a concussion.”

“Said that.” Stephanie grumpted. “Did you call Auntie? Tell her you did this? She’s gonna be mad.”

“Go to sleep.”

“I wanna talk.”

“We can talk later,” Tim grumbled, elbowing her. “Okay? Later.”

He lifted both hands, and made the ASL sign for later, which Stephanie huffed at, but she closed her eyes properly and went to sleep. The last thing she really remembered hearing was Wonder Girl, asking “Wait, are they dating?”

The rest was kind of fuzzy, and she wasn’t sure if it was a dream or not.

“Twins,” Stephanie mumbled, hugging Tim’s arm to her chest. Dick sighed.

“You’re not -”

“Twins,” she insisted, hugging Tim closer. “Jay said so, we’re twins. Bye. I’m right. You're wrong. Shut up. Hasta la vista, motherfuckers. Bye.”

She was about twenty percent sure that more than one person had given Dick some very weird looks after that, but she’d had her eyes shut, so she couldn’t confirm it.


	21. sweet dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is cold!”
> 
> “C’mon Duke!”

“This is cold!”

“C’mon Duke!” Stephanie shouted, already flailing in the water, stumbling over the rocks, slipping and sliding, laughing herself breathless. Managing to regain her balance, she spun around, and kicked up a splash of water, sending it towards her brother.

Duke threw his arms up to block the water, but it did practically nothing. Already in the deeper section of the water, Jason and Tim were trying to drown each other, Dick floating on his back. Stephanie laughed, twirling around. Like the guys, she was in board shorts and a long-sleeved swim shirt to cover her scars.

Pyramid Lake, in Jasper, Canada, was not shaped like a pyramid in the least. It was a large lake, rocky in some places, sandy in others, with an island in the middle. Surrounded by mountains, it was secluded, and emitted a sort of zen aura, despite the people who were scatted amongst the many little beaches, swimming and wadding.

Duke crept further in, sandals protecting his feet from the rocks and branches, and he moved closer to Stephanie, who lunged for him. She grabbed his wrist, and threw herself backwards, sending both of them off the slight drop-off.

Duke flailed, gasping at the chill, and Stephanie laughed louder, twisting through the clear-ish water, kicking towards her other brothers. Tim and Jason had stopped fighting, but that was more due to the fact that Jason had pinned Tim to his chest and was floating than any actual victor or draw.

Tim didn’t seem to mind. He was leaning back against Jason, hair plastered to his face. Jason twisted his head to watch Duke swim after them, only for the dark-skinned teenager to cry out.

“This is colder!”

Stephanie snickered, and Duke brought his feet around, flutter kicking to splash her. In answer, she dove under the surface, cutting through the murk, and grasping blindly for his legs. She took a foot to the shoulder for her trouble but yanked him down all the same.

Dick was oblivious to his siblings, floating on his back, the water in his ears muffling the sounds around him. Tim made a small grumbling noise, wiggling, but Jason held on tighter.

“I hate you,” Tim said flatly, without any bite. Jason laughed and used one hand to splash the kid. Tim spluttered, forcing his way free, but forgot he couldn’t touch the bottom. He sunk like a stone, and Jason swore, lunging for him.

Tim spluttered the moment he surfaced, legs kicking to keep him above the water. He was only up for a moment before a black and white dog charged right into him, almost pushing him back under.

“Whoa!” Jason shouted, lunging for the animal, who’s tail was whipping back and forth through the water, and she grasped onto his shoulders with her paws, claws digging in. “Who’s dog is this?”

“Sorry!” Someone on the shore called, and a red-haired teenager splashed towards the brothers, jumping off the drop-off and cutting towards them, head above the waves.

She grabbed the dog around the ribs with one arm, keeping herself and the animal afloat with her legs alone, one hand around the dog’s stomach.

“Sorry!” She repeated, laughing as the dog began to lick her face. “Waterdog, hope you’re not allergic.”

“Nope,” Tim wiped at his eyes, blinking rapidly. “Just surprised.”

The dog tried to get over the girl's shoulder, and she twisted around, somehow throwing the dogs not-inconsiderate weight towards the shore, before turning back around. “Sorry again.”

With that, she began to swim back towards the shore, the dog climbing onto her back, claws digging into her shoulders. The girl dove under, and the dog scrambled to stay up.

“Ha!” Stephanie shouted, pushing a wave of water over her brother, and Tim spluttered, coughing before he returned the gesture. Within moments, it was all-out war.


	22. dont know dont trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassie liked to think that Robin trusted her. Trusted the Team. But she wasn’t sure that he did, that Nightwing did.

Cassie liked to think that Robin trusted her. Trusted the Team. But she wasn’t sure that he did, that Nightwing did. Because the guy was very shy about anything that could lead back to who he was when they weren’t running missions. He’d been the only one, when the newest group of members had joined up for a team bonding session, who hadn’t told them who he was, or anything really, beyond I live in Gotham, and no, Batman isn’t my dad.

He was good though. She’d expected it to be a lot easier to take him out when it came to sparring, and instead, she’d ended up on the floor, every single damn time. It didn’t even hurt, really, just made her feel like shit.

She’d never met the previous Robin. And well, he’d died.

She didn’t want this Robin to die.

“Wonder Girl: Fail.”

Ow.

Cassie waited, and a moment later, Robin was gone, his weight no longer on her back, leaving her to push herself up, and brush herself off, looking around for the terror who’d been driving her nuts.

He was beside Batman, looking up at the older vigilante, who was focused on the holo-computer, not the training that was going on behind him. But the guy twisted around all the same and gave Robin a slight nod.

It was strange. Praise from his teammates was brushed off, like water off his cloak. But praise from anyone from Gotham was sucked up like he was never going to get any more, ever again. And the praise from those people was scarce. Slight nods, a smirk or two, a hand on the shoulder.

But Robin practically preened under it, watching his mentor-type on the computer, programming the training room for the next session. Behind Robin, Spoiler appeared her purple uniform just as much of an eyesore as usual.

“Isn’t that meeting tonight?” Spoiler asked, with a certain amount of inflection in her voice, that Cassie could hear, despite her Winter Soldier mask. She wasn’t sure what the inflection was meant to convey, but to Batman and Robin, it clearly meant something.

“Hm.” Was all Batman said, still typing, and both Robin and Spoiler exchanged looks. Cassie crossed her arms, glancing at Virgil and Bart, who’d come up beside her, their training spar finished. The humming grunt didn’t mean anything to Cassie, but it clearly meant something to Spoiler and Robin, who moved closer together.

Close enough that their shoulders were touching, that they could be holding hands and Cassie wouldn’t be able to tell, because their cloaks were in the way.

It wasn’t that she disliked Spoiler, but she didn’t exactly like her that much either. She was peppy in a really strange, dark way, her humour crude and jokes only understood by Robin, who always grinned at them. She enjoyed appearing out of the shadows far too much, and never fought fair. Not a single punch was ever pulled, and she had no qualms about fighting dirty, pulling hair and kicking groins.

She wiped the floor with all of them, just like the rest of the damn Gothamites did. And unlike the rest of the Gothamites, she didn’t even try to hide her enjoyment at being able to do so.

“Great,” was all Spoiler said to Batman, turning slightly into Robin, facing him. “Guess I should prepare for that.”

“Hm.”

Spoiler turned and headed towards the door. Robin followed her, not looking back once. A moment or so later, once they’d vanished into the hallway, Batman closed his screens and swept after them.

The second they were gone, the group around Cassie started to whisper, beginning with Bart. “I swear, if I knew that Spoiler would still appear, I would never have corrected the timeline.”

“What’s so bad about her?” Virgil asked, very obviously confused. “She’s nice.”

“She’s insane, is what she is,” Cassie growled, fists clenched. “She fucking brought acid to our first spar because she wanted to know if it would do anything, how is she nice.”

Virgil considered that. “Yeah, okay. She’s always been nice to me though.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s okay to spend time with.”


	23. used to be so simple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s a dead body here! There’s a dead body, oh my god, Tim!”

“Robin!”

Tim flinched at the scream that came through his comm - the Young Justice comm, not the Gotham comm - and reached up to answer it. 

“What?” he snapped, because they should know better than to contact him, for god's sake, if the UN knows that they can contact him, who knows what’ll happen to them! They freaking quit the League and the Team, and then became criminals, why do they think it’s a good idea to contact him!

“There’s a dead body here! There’s a dead body, oh my god, Tim!”

“Why can’t you just let the authorities deal with it?” Robin asked, appearing from the shadows behind Bart and Cassie, both of whom yelled, whirling around to stare at him. He didn’t even flinch, the tilt of his shoulders conveying a slight amount of amusement.

“See, the thing is,” Cassie said, scratching at the back of her neck, before hiding her hands in her jacket pockets. “Is that we’re being framed.”

They couldn’t really see Robin’s expression, between the dark backstreet lighting, the domino mask, and the hood over his head, but it seemed to be unimpressed if anything. “And with the United Nation and Justice League tensions, you can’t risk it.”

“Yeah.” Cassie swallowed, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “Yeah, that’s it.”

“Okay,” Robin said, walking past the pair, towards the alleyway where the body was. Virgil was standing at the edge of the alleyway, and he kept looking around as if a police officer would appear out of nowhere like Tim had and arrest him.

Robin passed by silently, and crouched by the body, studying them. Burns, electrical burns, crossed the man’s throat, sinking down into his shirt. A sort of handprint was there, the burns radiating out from it.

Yup. Looked a lot like a setup.

“So, what do we do?” Cassie asked as Robin rose back up, cloak rustling. He turned around to look at the trio, who’d gathered behind him. “Do we tell the League? Aqualad?”

“We dispose of it,” Robin said briskly, taking a small object from his utility belt, and turning back around, holding it to his mouth. There was a soft click. “It’s me. No, I’m not yelling at you. Get my coordinates, now. We need to destroy a body.”

He put the object away, and crouched down again, beginning to take samples.

“Why am I the one who you called?” a voice asked, stepping out of the darkness. It was a red-haired girl, with a neon green bat on her chest, hot pink decorating her uniform. “I mean, wouldn’t you-know-who make more sense, he was the one who decapitated four people.”

Cassie gagged at that, and Bart pulled a face. Virgil just stared, but neither Robin nor the girl seemed to find it weird. She knelt beside him, humming to herself. “Set-up?”

“From what I can tell.”

“Pretty good one. COD?”

“Cardiac arrest. I’d bet he took enough electricity to make death row look like a cake-walk, from this scaring.”

“Meta?”

“Possibly. More likely that it’s a form of tech, like Hawkfire’s gloves.”

“Ah.”

The three members of Young Justice exchanged glances. They didn’t know who this girl was, or who Hawkfire was. Why Robin trusted her seemed clear as the bat on her chest, but everything else was in the shadows.

Virgil cleared his throat first, as the girl pulled a small object from behind her, and it expanded into a body bag, for god's sake, and Robin turned to look at him, very slightly. Not even; he moved his head slightly to the side, and that was it.

“Who’s your friend?”

“I’m Batgirl.”

“I thought Batgirl retired?” Cassie said, brows furrowing. Batgirl shrugged, opening up the body bag, and shaking it a bit to make it stay open.

“I mean, I’m not the first Batgirl. I’m the fourth.”

“There’s been more than one Batgirl?”

“And more than one Robin,” Batgirl said cheerfully, while Robin took one end of the body bag, stretching it out so it was alongside the body. “I’ve been both.”

“I thought he was Robin,” Bart said, pointing to Robin. “You’re the last Robin, that’s what the history books said.”

Robin snorted. “How many are we at now?”

“One, two, you, four, five, me, seven, eight, and nine, if we’re counting the temporary filling-in.” Batgirl counted on her fingers and wiggled them at the three Young Justice members. “So yeah. But handles are like, whatever, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Cassie said, crossing her arms, and trying to resist the urge to punch something. “And how do you guys know how to do this?”

“We grew up in Gotham, Wondie,” Batgirl chirped, taking ahold of the victim’s ankles, while Robin grasped his shoulders. They lifted together, setting him into the body bag. “This ain’t the first time I’ve thrown a body into the bay.”

“Not the bay,” Robin argued. “And not the country, you can take them to that warehouse that used to refine coal out of town. Won’t be hard to break the security and throw him into fire.”

Batgirl made a face, which conveyed her opinion of that idea well enough, but stood up all the same, grabbing ahold of the two straps that ran along the body bag, like it was for skis, and picking it up. “C’ya, Red.”

She fired off a grapple line, and then was gone. Somehow. With a fully-grown six foot four inches dead body in tow. Cassie, Virgil, and Bart all turned to Robin, who crossed his arms.

“What?”

“Since when are their other vigilantes?” Cassie asked, eyes narrowed. “And since when are you so friendly with them?”

“If you’re asking if I’m dating one of my siblings, forget it,” Tim said, lifting his chin. “And since forever, basically. Batgirl has been in the field longer than Virgil has. And before you even ask, I’m not Robin. Robin is a thirteen year old with a katana and anger issues.”

“So... who are you then?” Bart asked, for once staying still, and talking slowly. 

“Red Robin.”

“Like the restaurant?” Virgil blurted, exchanging a look with Bart.

Tim made a face. “What restaurant?”

“You know? Red Robin! Yum yum? The chain?”

“That would explain it,” Robin said, pulling out a small gun from his utility belt, and checking the cord inside, like it was a revolver or something. “We don’t do chain restaurants in Gotham, they’re great targets for our Rouges. Anyways. Joker is running around somewhere. I have to go.”

Then he was gone too. The three remaining superheroes stared at where he’d been a second before, in silence.

“I did not think Gotham could get any scarier.” Virgil wrapped his arms around himself, shaking his head slowly. “I was wrong.”


	24. stella ella ola

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stella Ella Ola,”
> 
> “Clap, clap, clap,”
> 
> What. The fuck. Was going on?

_“_ _Stella Ella Ola,”_

_“Clap, clap, clap,”_

What. The fuck. Conner blinked the sleep away, and threw off the covers, heading for the bedroom door. Why was someone doing Stella Ella Ola at - he checked the time - four in the morning? 

_“Singin’ yes, chicco-chicco,”_

_“Chicco-chicco, cracker jacker,”_

Cassie was in the hallway, halfway through pulling a hoodie on over her pyjamas, and Conner gave her a shrug, having absolutely no clue why someone was doing Stella Ella Ola. And it was being done at a relatively normal pace, meaning that it certainly wasn’t Bart. And Robin was supposed to be in Gotham.

_“Yes chicco-chicco,”_

_“Baloney, baloney,”_

Conner raised his hand, fist made, and Cassie nodded, rising slightly into the air. He clung to the right side of the hallway, and she pressed against the left side, both of them creeping forwards as best they could.

_“With cheese ‘n’ macaroni,”_

_“Singin’ 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10!”_

There was a yell of surprise, and both Conner and Cassie whipped around the corner, freezing at the sight. In the living room. There’s a couple of kids, sitting in a circle, and one of them was clutching at his hand while glaring at the blonde beside him.

“Spoiler!”

She laughed, falling backwards onto the ground. Like the rest of them, she had sunglasses on but was otherwise dressed as a civilian. “What? Nothing says I can’t hit hard!”

“Blue’s out, in any case,” an all-too-familiar voice said, and the kid who was cradling his arm shuffled backwards, out of the way of the others, as they tightened up the circle, and rested their hands on each other’s hands.

_“Stella Ella Ola,”_

_“Clap, clap, clap,”_

That was Robin. Why was Robin playing Stella Ella Ola at four in the morning with a bunch of strangers?

_“Singin’ yes, chicco-chicco,”_

_“Chicco-chicco, cracker jacker,”_

They were going at it again, and Conner walked further into the room. The group kept playing, ignoring the newest arrivals.

_“Yes chicco-chicco,”_

_“Baloney, baloney,”_

What.

_“With cheese ‘n’ macaroni,”_

_“Singin’ 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10!”_

“Hey!” the kid greeted, waving at them. “Cassie and Conner? Yeah, the house was on fire, so we came here to crash.”

Conner turned around and went back to bed. He was not dealing with this today. Tonight. Whatever.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have something that you'd like to ask or request, feel free to ask me to do so in the comments!


End file.
